


Divine Inspiration

by LuckyPanda13



Series: Divinity [1]
Category: The Iliad - Homer, Troy (2004)
Genre: Agamemnon Is An Idiot, Astyanax Is Cute, Come on, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Odysseus Is A Smug Bastard, Paris Thinks With His Dick, Priam Hate, Priam Is An Ass, Rough Sex, They're Warriors, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2014719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyPanda13/pseuds/LuckyPanda13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hector stops at the last second, sparing Patroclus' life and earning him the respect of Achilles. Achilles wants to thank Hector. Unfortunately, the Trojan Prince is not prepared for the Myrmidon's attentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I’ve been working on for a while, but I wanted to finish it before uploading it, because it was originally a one-shot. Obviously, that TOTALLY worked out. Except not. I have a bad habit of refusing to allow “our eyes met and we fell in love” in my fics. I’m a bigger fan of realistic expectations of love. Therefore, it took me a long time to get Achilles and Hector to fall in love, because they’re just awesome that way. Honestly, I love Hector and I know that he and Achilles would have been attracted to each other because, hello! Tanned, muscley, badass warrior meeting another tanned, muscley, badass warrior. I think they would have at least gotten along had they been given a chance. Hector would have been amused by Achilles’ bravado more than anything else.

I had watched Achilles for years on the rare days he deemed my men worthy enough to fight and slaughter. He was a masterpiece. Every movement was calculated perfectly and executed flawlessly. Every step and motion and attack was a work of art in itself. Naturally, respect nestled into my thoughts regarding the warrior. That being said, some part of me always knew I was going to end up fighting the man, so I forced myself to fight harder, more skillfully, more disciplined than ever before. I knew that whenever we fought, it would be to the death and I wouldn’t necessarily win that fight. I killed every Greek in my path in order to better myself for the inevitable fight against Achilles. I refused to ever admit that the respect had slowly manifest into maybe something more, especially since the warrior rarely decided to venture from his tent.

I thought I was prepared for our inevitable encounter, though my heart pounded uncomfortably at the thought. And there was no way I was admitting that my nervousness was less about my potential death and more about the chance to admire the golden-armored Greek up close. There was absolutely nothing base or carnal in me when I finally faced off with the warrior. Nothing at all. When the fight started turned in my favor, I felt the potential triumph flood through my veins, making me more powerful and faster than ever. And  _no_  feelings of arousal. At all. I told myself it was more about my pride for beating Achilles than it was about my assertion of dominance over the man. I was always a bad liar.

I saw the golden-clad man fall to the ground and I raised my sword to finish it, feeling the victory inflame my movements, when the blue eyes met my brown ones. My arm weakened with the realization that I was  _not_  fighting Achilles. I let my arm drop and I paused to catch my breath as two men stepped forward to the youth on the ground. One was Achilles’ second-in-command, Eudorus, and the second appeared to be like any other Greek, but his poise spoke of power, enlightening me to the possibility that I was facing the King of Ithaca. I found it remarkable how the king was able to be so well-known and yet so unknown. Everyone knew of Achilles and his Myrmidons, but Odysseus had managed to maintain his anonymity throughout the war.

“Enough.” I said in my accented Greek, nodding at who I presumed was Odysseus. “Peace until the morrow.” Greek was not a terribly difficult language to pick up, but I was never able to rid myself of my Luwian accent. According to the Greeks I had spoken with, Luwian was not difficult to pick up either, but they were all able to speak it without much of an accent. Helen had a perfect Luwian accent, but I was stuck with mine, which could be a little frustrating. Especially when my five-year-old son, who insisted on learning what I was saying when I was trying to keep information from him with Andromache, could speak Greek without hint of an accent.

“Agreed.” The man stepped forward and offered his hand. I gripped the proffered hand and nodded again. "Thank you, prince.”

“He shouldn’t wear that armor unless his experience can match that of Achilles’.” I nodded at the youth, who was being verbally berated by Eudorus.

“Agreed.” The man frowned. “It will not happen again.” We released our grip on each other and turned back to our men, ordering the peace for the day. As much as I wanted to abandon the battlefield and the death of the day, I couldn’t leave yet. I ordered the dead to be buried and the wounded to be returned to Troy while I sat watch over his men, ensuring both that the Greeks wouldn’t attack them and that my men didn’t attack the Greeks. I trusted them to obey me, but I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t rise to the bait that the Greeks might throw.

“You didn’t have to spare him.” Odysseus approached me slowly as I sat on the ground.

“He is a child. He does not know nor understand the consequences of what could have been today.” I replied, indicating for the king to take a seat beside me. Odysseus did, stretching out comfortably.

“You speak the truth. That being said,  _you_  do not understand what could have been today.” Odysseus said, shifting to Luwian and making me stare in surprise. His accent was perfect. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was Trojan. Most individuals stayed in their first language just out of comfort. “You spared Patroclus’ life, and, in that respect, garnered respect and thanks from Achilles himself.” I blinked in shock. I had no idea that the beloved cousin of Achilles had been the youth I spared. “And now you understand how critical that move was. If Patroclus had died, Achilles would have reacted rather violently.”

“We would have all died.” I sighed, running a hand over my features.

“Now, I don’t know if Achilles will even try to fight you, out of gratitude for your actions.” Odysseus admitted.

“Then the war will never end.” I replied.

“I understand.” Odysseus agreed. “Do not give up hope for peace, though. Perhaps it will be more easily won than thought.” I didn’t respond. We sat in silence for a long while, just watching our men collect the injured and bury the dead. Odysseus finally stood up, his gaze concentrated on the beaches.

“It appears we’ll figure out Achilles’ plan sooner than expected.” He said. I looked over and spotted the golden-haired warrior approaching them, Eudorus at his heels. Instantly, I felt uneasy about their approach and stood, preparing myself for a potential fight. I could take Eudorus or Odysseus in a fair fight, but combined with Achilles, I could never win. “Peace, young prince.” Odysseus smiled at me. “Achilles is far more likely to hug you than stab you at the moment.” I still watched Achilles as he approached, his blue eyes blazing cold fire and fierce determination in a way that I had never seen before.

“You saved my cousin.” Achilles said in Greek as soon as he was in earshot.

“I spared the life of a foolish youth.” I amended.

“You didn’t kill him and you will forever have my gratitude for that.” Achilles wisely stopped several feet away from me, his steel eyes taking in every facet of me. I looked the warrior over at the same time, measuring up my enemy. The man was built finer than any warrior I had ever seen. His face was more striking than even that of Helen’s and his confident arrogance spoke volumes simply in his posture and expression. That being said, Achilles looked more grateful than conceited at the moment. I would be lying if I said I didn’t find the Greek attractive. The power that radiated from him made him dangerous and that was even more exciting than I was willing to admit. Especially to myself.

“If I meet him on the battlefield, I will only strike if he attacks first, but I will not spare him again.” I replied, dragging my gaze from Achilles’ body to his face.

“I wouldn’t have spared him in the first place.” Achilles nodded. “But you did, and that means more to me than if you killed a thousand Greeks tomorrow.”

“Although he is still too young for battle,” I allowed, “It might have easily been my son who thoughtlessly charged into battle wearing my armor.” Achilles’ eyes focused on me more deeply than before. Where at first, his gaze had been assessing and calculating, now his gaze was appreciative and approving. I shifted uncomfortably under his heavy gaze. I did  _not_  like how the Greek was staring at me. Not at all.

“Thank you very much, Hector.” Achilles allowed a smirk to play across his features and I avoided looking at those too-blue eyes. “Eudorus, will you go keep an eye on Patroclus? Make sure he doesn’t get into any _more_  trouble. Odysseus, I would like your assistance in determining how best to punish my cousin.” Taking the hint, both Odysseus and Eudorus left the warrior and me, looking more amused than anything else.

“Is there a reason you are still here?” I asked bluntly, cursing my lack of tact.

“I’m admiring the view.” Achilles’ damnable smirk wouldn’t leave.

“I mean,” I felt heat stain my features, “You hardly fight, you despise the men you are supposed to fight for, and you hold nothing but disdain for the reason behind this war.”

“Ah.” Achilles nodded and stepped closer to me, his movements liquid and primal. I was abruptly reminded of lions and predators as Achilles stalked closer, invading my personal space and enlightening my senses to his earthy musk and rich soapy scent. And no, it was  _not_  arousing in  _any_  respect. “I was promised eternal glory should I fight in this war. And I wanted eternal glory.”

“But not anymore?”

“The near-death of my cousin brought to me fear, which I have never before experienced.” Was all Achilles would say on the matter. “What about you, prince? Why do you continue to fight? I have heard you hate this war.”

“My brother is young and even more foolish than your Patroclus.” I said slowly, unsure of how much I should say regarding the moronic decisions my brother had made. My father and brother were well-aware of how much I wanted to punch my brother’s face in for the sheer stupidity of his actions, but I kept it quiet to avoid having a riot in the streets of Troy. I would give Helen over in a heartbeat if it meant my son could grow up safely and be able to venture beyond the walls of our city without worrying about a Greek kidnapping him or murdering him where he stood. “There is nothing in this war but death and misery. Even if one triumphs over another, neither side will win. Not with the amount of death that has happened.”

“Perhaps peace can be arranged.” I stared at the Greek in shock. It was well-advertised that the great Achilles was fond of fighting, though he grew bored quickly if he wasn’t challenged.

“Not if both Paris and Menelaus refuse to part with Helen.” Achilles’ gaze was making me uncomfortable beyond belief and I shifted slightly, moving as far as I could from Achilles without betraying any fear. I stubbornly refused to admit to myself that it wasn’t fear I was feeling. I adamantly ignored the notion that the feeling was anything close to embarrassment or arousal. I also stalwartly avoided focusing on his scent for too long. That way lay personal demons I had no time to wrestle with. Those sharp eyes caught my every movement, though, and the Greek’s smirk only widened. I thought that when Achilles opened his mouth he was going to tease me about the tiny motion.

“You don’t look like you can tame horses.” I blinked in surprise.

“You don’t look like an overprotective mother.” I mentally swore. I normally had better control over my mouth. I had to, as a prince. Instead of getting offended, Achilles laughed.

“I protect my family and my men, as you have been doing, with great skill, I might add.” He replied.

“I do what Troy asks of me.” I had no idea to respond to the compliment.

“How selfless.” Achilles spoke without malice or mockery, but admiration instead.

“It is almost evening.” I noted the sun’s position and that most of my men had made their way back into the city.

“Yes, it is.” Achilles’ eyes never once left me.

“I should be getting back to the city.” I announced the obvious, hoping Achilles would take the hint.

“Should you?” Achilles teased lightly.

“My family will be expecting me.” I replied.

“Will they?” Achilles stepped closer and closer to me, making me more and more uncomfortable with how prey-like I felt.

“Yes, as I’m sure your men are expecting you.” I said, swallowing tightly. Achilles’ eyes focused on the small contraction of my throat for a moment.

“They know better than to expect anything of me.” Achilles replied. I hummed noncommittally and forced my feet to move me away from the warrior. I avoided the blue gaze and mounted the horse my men brought for me. I made the mistake of looking back at the Greek. His eyes were narrowed with displeasure and dissatisfaction, though his pupils were large enough to cut the blue orbs down to narrow slivers. His mouth was open the tiniest bit, betraying a small amount of admiration for  _something_  I had apparently done, though I couldn’t name what it was.

“Until the morrow.” I called, feeling it a bit disrespectful to leave without a word. Achilles’ gaze found my brown eyes and his smirk returned with a vengeance.

“I look forward to it.” With that, I kicked his horse into a gallop, trying to get away from those piercing steel eyes. I didn’t realize my heart had been racing until I reached the city gates and I  _really_  didn’t realize that I had been breathing in Achilles’ scent as deeply as possible until I had dismounted from my horse safely inside Troy’s walls. Breathing slowly to calm my racing heart, I brushed the horse down, refusing to go to my family while I was so worked up over a Greek. I couldn’t name why I was so agitated by Achilles. Something about the Greek just screamed “predator” and it made me uneasy.

When I awoke in the middle of the night with golden hair and steel blue eyes flashing behind my lids and the most desperate erection I had ever experienced, I knew I had to avoid the warrior as much as humanly possible. I felt more ashamed than I had ever felt in my life when I woke Andromache and pounded her into the mattress. She didn’t say a word, which made me feel guiltier, though I ensured that she enjoyed herself. It wasn’t unusual for me to experience lust in the aftermath of a battle, and my wife had long since accepted my aggressive coupling with her since the war began. It didn’t assuage my guilt any, however. When I prepared to go out onto the battlefield the following morning, she merely kissed me and gave me her usual “come back to me safely”.

The morning began normally, with Greek after Greek dying at my hands. I fought on the flank of the army, putting me directly next to the forest. Exhaustion was starting to wear on me by midday, so I decided to fall back and allow other Trojans to take my place for a few hours while I rested. I was making my retreat when a spear flew towards my face. My dodge brought me to the ground near the Greek line and when I glanced up, the golden armor was shining directly above me. I backed away from Achilles, mentally preparing myself for quite literally the fight of my life. I silently swore; I was far too tired to fight Achilles and maintain even a semblance of fine form. My gaze flickered to the forest and I weighed my chances.

There were plenty of wild horses in the trees that I could tame in order to get away. Then again, my father’s generals would accuse me of cowardice, again, and I’d never be rid of the rumors. I glanced back at Achilles, whose eyes had narrowed as if to say “don’t even try it”. I wouldn’t win. Even on my best day when I wasn’t exhausted from fighting for years, I couldn’t guarantee that I could beat the Greek. Granted, it would be a hard fight for both of us, but I couldn’t even hope to compete with his abilities as tired as I was. I considered my options for a good few seconds, also unconsciously keeping an eye on the fighting around me, so I didn’t get stabbed. Achilles’ oppressive gaze made my decision for me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Achilles and Hector talk, and Hector gives in to temptation.

I sprinted into the forest, hoping against hope that I was faster than Achilles. Hastily, I dropped my sword, shield, and helmet to keep myself from getting weighed down. I couldn’t erase the image of those cold blue eyes, heated with some emotion I refused to put a name to, from my mind’s eye. I weaved as closely as I could towards Troy, loosening the armor I wore so I could rid myself of that extra weight, too. I spotted the city walls over the treetops and dropped the armor from my chest, trying to ignore the burning in my lungs. I got closer and closer to the walls, feeling potential victory push me faster and faster.

Which was when Achilles pounced.

I rolled with the tackle, hoping to get some purchase against the ground to better defend myself from the Greek’s attacks. Achilles rolled  _with_  me, effectively preventing any hope for a counterattack  _and_  pinning me to the ground. I struggled against his grip, trying to free myself and trying  _not_  to die. It took me longer than it should have to notice that Achilles had also divested himself of his weapons and armor, probably to keep up with me, and that he was  _not_ , in fact, actually attacking me. His efforts to keep me pinned were mainly holding me still. Mentally, I panicked far more because he  _wasn’t_  trying to kill me than if he had a knife to my throat. A knife I could handle, his heavy gaze I couldn’t. I finally stopped fighting, hoping that I could still live to see my wife and son if I played my cards right.

“Hello, little princeling.” Achilles smirked, though his chest was still heaving from the exertion of the chase as well as keeping me pinned. Rage boiled in my chest, the way it always did when my pride was insulted, but I knew better than to bait the man pinning me to the ground who could kill me without thinking.

“What do you want?” Not as diplomatic as I could be, but I chalked it up to my exhaustion. I was also speaking in my native tongue, which I wasn’t sure the warrior could actually understand.

“So eager to get away from me.” Achilles muttered, switching to Luwian.

“You’re my enemy.” I pointed out, systematically testing the strength of Achilles’ hold on me. Damn, the man was strong. Damn, it was arousing.  _No!_  Not arousing. Nope.

“I’m not your enemy, Hector.” Shivers flickered up my spine and unease and apprehension settled in my gut as he said my name. He pronounced it the same as everyone did, but the  _way_  he said it made my stomach tighten nervously. It was like he was planning on playing with his food before eating it and  _I_  was the food.

“You fight for the Greeks.” I replied. “I fight for the Trojans. Therefore, we are enemies.”

“You spared my cousin.” Achilles pointed out.

“And you haven’t killed me.” The “yet” remained unspoken, though by the way Achilles’ eyes narrowed, he had heard the implication.

“Why would I kill you when I find you so fascinating?” He tilted his head curiously, his eyes still narrowed with the apparent slight. I didn’t know  _how_  I had insulted him, but apparently whatever it was he didn’t like it. I swallowed tightly and his eyes focused on how my tongue wet my lips. I abruptly wanted Achilles  _off_  me and as far from me as physically possible while at the same time the nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me of my dreams the night before.

“Why would you find me fascinating?” I replied, breathing shallowly so I could avoid his scent. It didn’t work. Achilles’ brow furrowed.

“I’m not sure.” He dropped his head down to the hollow of my throat, making my pulse jump wildly, and breathed deeply. He sighed and when his eyes returned to mine, the pupils were blown wide open, making my stomach tighten and my breathing hitch. Panic filled my chest as his gaze focused entirely on me, making me feel like his prey. I adamantly ignored the hand lines of his body as they pressed against me. More specifically, I ignored his erection that was trapped against my stomach. And I stubbornly ignored the way my own arousal was trying to make itself known. I would  _not_  be aroused by my enemy. A man who had killed more of my men in his few days of fighting than any other Greek. No. I would not be unfaithful to my wife. I would not betray her like that.

“Why are you doing this?” I managed to get out, though my voice was not recognizable.

“Doing what?” Achilles’ voice was deeper, gruffer, making me feel like I was about to get fucked. Literally. “Am I making you uncomfortable, little princeling?” And with those two words, my anger found its way over my lust. I let Achilles drop his nose back to my neck, where he breathed deeply again when I surged forward, catching him off guard and knocking his back into the ground. I gripped his wrists tightly and pinned his legs down, still disregarding his arousal and trying to keep myself from having a similar reaction.

“Why did you follow me?” I reworded my question. I could have easily escaped from the Greek in his surprise, but I didn’t and I wasn’t sure why. Achilles looked impressed by my actions and he stretched languidly beneath me, looking for all the world like he was going to get fucked, and he knew it and was both eager and smug about it. His skin was scorching under my touch and his scent tried to overwhelm my thought processes.

“Divine inspiration.”

“What?” Achilles had never appeared to be devout, especially not compared to my father.

“I wanted eternal glory.” Achilles said. “But this war is boring, with the significant exception of you. Why did you run away? I never took you for a coward.” He was baiting me, and I knew it. I couldn’t help the rage that boiled up at his accusation.

“I’m no coward.” I growled, desperately trying to keep my head. “But I would rather give my son a father than satisfy my pride. Would you not do the same for Patroclus?”

“I do not fear death.” Achilles argued.

“It’s not about fearing death.” I shook my head. “It’s about fearing that your loved one will not be protected and you are the only one capable of keeping him safe. Leaving my son unprotected every day terrifies me.”

“Not your wife?” Achilles’ smug smirk was annoying me.

“If you think the war is boring, why don’t you leave?” I ignored his question and he looked a little annoyed in response.

“I told you: I find you fascinating.” His scent and “fuck me now” appearance was getting distracting. I had to get away before my body decided to make decisions I knew I would regret. I rolled off the Greek and moved across the clearing, trying to clear my head. I glanced back at the warrior, who sat up, regarding me with his lust-blown eyes.

“You can’t find me fascinating if we have to kill each other.” I replied.

“We only have to kill each other if there’s a war on.” Achilles argued.

“ _You_  would sue for peace?” I stared at him, trying to force my brain to ignore all the obvious signs of arousal in both Achilles and myself.

“I would.”

“Why?”

“Divine inspiration.” We sat in silence for a long time, me waiting for him to elaborate and him stubbornly  _not_  elaborating. “Odysseus has been trying for peace since before we left Greece, but Agamemnon is a fool and Menelaus feels jilted. Ajax added his voice for peace after his duel with you. He still admires you greatly. I have just recently added my voice to theirs, but it is slow-going.”

“I am the only voice in Troy.” I admitted. “I cannot speak it loudly, but those in power know and ignore me. If peace can be had at all, it must at least begin with you.”

“I understand.” Achilles nodded. “That is the same report Odysseus came up with.”

“Odysseus?” How had the king known my opinions at all and also how unpopular they were within the leaders of Troy?

“He’s a tricky one.” Achilles grinned. “If the war continues, I have no doubt that the victory of the Greeks depends entirely upon that king.” I agreed with the warrior’s theory. Where I would hate to fight Achilles physically, I would equally loathe to face Odysseus in a mental competition. I didn’t know for sure, but I would hazard to guess that the only reason Menelaus and Agamemnon hadn’t bowed to Odysseus’ wishes was because they refused to actually listen to him. The man was uncannily persuasive. I also guessed it was the King of Ithaca who talked Achilles into the notion of peace, despite Achilles’ claim of divine intervention.

“You honestly want peace?” Achilles rolled to his feet and, ever the prowling lion, he stalked closer.

“Yes.” And for some reason only the gods knew, I believed him. “Now, little princeling, answer my question.”

“What question?” I would  _not_  be baited by him.

“Do I make you nervous, Hector?” Once again, the throaty tone with which he said my name made shivers erupt up my spine.

“You’re my enemy.”

“With all these pretty words of peace, you can no longer use that excuse.” Achilles smirked as he prowled closer and closer. I retreated, trying desperately to keep his stupid scent as far from me as possible when my back hit a tree. Brief panic flared in my chest as Achilles halted a breath away from me. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” I’d always been a bad liar. His smirk widened.

“Why do I make you nervous?” That ass. I said nothing, trying  _not_  to breathe through my nose with how close he stood to me. He tilted his head, touching his nose to the dark curls behind my ear and took a deep breath. His voice was a rough growl when he spoke next. “You smell ravishing, Trojan. Spicy and exotic and so utterly  _you_.”

“What are you doing, Greek?” My voice had deepened and roughed to the point where I didn’t recognize it.

“Playing with my food.” Gods, he was flirting.

“That’s not polite.” Gods,  _I_  was flirting! Our bodies were still separated by a breath of air, though the warmth emanating from his body in addition to his scent that was overriding any coherency I still had permeated the brief barrier between us. “Didn’t your mother teach you better manners than that?”

“Mmhmm.” Achilles’ eyes, now pure black with the pupils blown so wide, focused entirely on my lips as my tongue darted out to wet them. “Rudeness was always punished.” All appropriate thoughts fled my mindand any objection the rational, responsible part of me died abruptly. “Are you going to punish me, Hector?” His voice was a husky murmur, more liquid sex than actual words. I wasn’t sure at exactly what point my mind snapped, but I somehow managed to slam Achilles’ back roughly into a tree while simultaneously taking advantage of his open mouth to tongue-fuck him liberally. A hoarse groan escaped his throat and an answering growl left mine.

“Lost a little control there, Trojan?” Achilles breathed into my neck like we had just sprinted from the beaches to the walls of Troy. I wasn’t doing much better. His scent was intoxicating and making me lose all sense. I didn’t want to hear him speak anymore. His arrogance and sexuality was pushing me to my limit and I was about to completely lose it.

“Shut the fuck up.” I growled, slipping my thigh between his legs and feeling his erection brush against my hip. He groaned and slid his fingers into my curls, dragging our lips together crudely. He shifted between me and the tree, trying to get any form of leverage against me. I dug my fingers into his hips and brutally shoved his back into the bark. His fingers tightened their hold in my hair, exposing me to the pain that only made my lust mount. Blame it on the warrior in me, but I had long since adopted pain as another form of pleasure. I gripped his hips in a bruising force and dug my fingernails in, granting him the same sinful pleasure that accompanied the pain.

“Hector. Fuck.” I heard his mumbled curse and decided to take him up on the offer. I was admittedly surprised that Achilles wasn’t fighting for dominance more. I wouldn’t have pegged the warrior for being submissive in anything, much less sex. The knowledge that I was going to dictate our coupling and have all the power over him made me drunk with arousal. I stepped back from Achilles for a moment to flip him around, shoving his chest into the trunk viciously.

“Gods…” Achilles groaned loudly. His grin of triumph spoke louder than his words. My hand came up and covered his mouth, silencing whatever the arrogant man was about to say. Intoxicated by the power I held over the mighty Achilles, I wanted to dominate him even  _more_. I didn’t feel in control of myself as I jerked up the back of his chiton and the front of mine. When my erection pressed against his ass, he started whining beneath my hand. I clamped my teeth on his neck for a brief moment before licking a line to his ear.

“You want this, don’t you?” The words spilled forth beyond my own volition, crude even while lacking dirty words. “You’re enjoying the fact that you have absolutely no control, aren’t you? You’re so desperate to get me deep inside you. You’re practically begging like a whore.” He whined and pressed back against me desperately. I pushed forward, shoving past the tight ring of muscles without any preparation, which probably hurt significantly more than Achilles let on as he bit my hand. He was more silent as I slid into him than he had been during our entire encounter. His heat was so tight that I thought my end would come immediately.

“Fuck me.” Achilles ordered, slipping his lips past my hand as I focused more on  _not_  finishing than on whether or not his mouth was covered. I started to pull out of him, stopping only when the head of my cock was just inside his ass. My hands gripped his hips tightly, preventing him from moving at all. It took every ounce of self-control I had to  _not_  move, but by the gods I would see the Greek humble for once. When Achilles realized that I was not moving and he couldn’t move either, he swore at me in frustration. I bit his neck roughly, dragging a thick moan from his chest. He liked his pain. Not that I was any better.

“Trying to make demands of a prince, Greek?” I teased, not recognizing my voice in any respect. Something dark, primal, and completely sadistic in me welled up and took over my mind. “You, the prince of Phthia, the finest warrior in all the world, the leader of the best warriors in all of Greece, the Myrmidons, reduced to begging. Look at yourself,” I licked the spot behind his ear, relishing in the shiver the touch elicited, “You’re so desperate to be dominated, to be fucked.” The crude word made Achilles jerk, his breath coming in desperate pants. I should have known he’d like dirty talk. “I’m going to take you however I please and you’ll thank me for it afterwards.”

Anger made Achilles’ face flush, but his hips tried to rock against me, betraying how arousing he found my words. I hesitated for another moment before slamming home into his heat. A shocked cry emerged from his throat at my abrupt motion. I growled into his ear as I fucked him as hard and slow and deep as I possibly could. He wasn’t happy with the tempo of my pace, though he definitely appreciated how rough I was with him and his body. His hands pressed into the bark, trying to keep himself from slamming into the trunk with my thrusts. One hand tried to slither down towards his cock and I stopped to bite his neck in punishment. He growled at me as my hand placed his back onto the trunk.

“No touching.” I growled right back. His hands froze obediently and I allowed my hips to continue to piston, slightly faster in reward for Achilles submitting to me. Neither of us spoke as I fucked him hard, drawing bruises into his hips and neck, though the forest around us with filled with our panting and the sharp slap of bare skin smacking against bare skin. It didn’t take long before his tight heat was dragging me closer and closer to the brink of bliss. I considered granting him friction for his erection when Achilles’ breathing abruptly hitched and his ass tightened almost uncomfortably around me. I lost all my control completely as he came undone, his seed splattering all over the tree in front of him. My hips snapped forward uncontrollably and my vision went black as I came, groaning deeply in orgasm. I blinked slowly and my sight returned, showing me the spent Achilles draped over the tree, looking well and truly sated. I slipped from his heat and took several steps back, leaning against another tree as I struggled to remain upright.

“If I had known it would be like  _that_ ,” Achilles’ voice sounded like he had been screaming for hours, “I would have seduced you years ago.” He turned around against the tree, avoiding the mess he had made, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, a dark bruise on his neck and fingerprints painted onto his hips. Shame washed through me and guilt at betraying my wife made my tongue thick and a knot of terror settle high in my chest. Achilles’ eyes narrowed at me as we both struggled to catch our breath almost as if he knew what I was thinking.

“I have to go.” I got out, my voice finally somewhere close to recognizable. Achilles frowned.

“You regret this.” He replied simply. The most terrifying part of everything that had happened was that I  _didn’t_. I felt guilty and shamed by cheating on my wife, but if I had the chance to redo everything that day, I would have done the same thing.

“You don’t?” I asked, refusing to admit my feelings. He had just gotten dominated in every sense of the word. If his men had seen that…

“Not at all.” Achilles crossed his arms, still frowning at me.

“I have a wife and family.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain it to him, but the guilt was doubling at the look on his face.

“I know.”

“We’re enemies.”

“Not for much longer if Odysseus gets his way.”

“One of us could die in battle.”

“We’re too good for that.”

“I was just unfaithful to my wife.” I sighed. “I’m probably going to be punished for all eternity when I die, so do forgive me for regretting what just happened.” Achilles snorted.

“The gods have selected us. Why would they punish you?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I told you: divine inspiration.” Achilles stood up straight and walked towards me, not quite able to hide the limp. He stopped right in front of me and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me thoroughly. I don’t know why I let him. I don’t know why I kissed back. His fingers slid into my hair, wrapping around the curls possessively. When he pulled back, his smirk was back in place and he winked at me. “Thanks for the ride, Trojan.” He turned and started in the direction of the beaches. I watched him leave. Abruptly, I realized that he had actually  _thanked_  me for fucking him into a tree and it was only because I had baited him in the middle of said fucking. Heat flared over my features and I tried to figure out what the fuck I was going to tell my wife.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hector feels guilty, Odysseus, Ajax, and Achilles sue for peace, and Priam is kind of a dick.

“My prince.” Pedasus greeted me when I made my way back through the gates of Troy. I hesitated when I saw him. As a Trojan general and prince, I knew which soldiers were assigned to what duties and when. And I _knew_  that Pedasus was supposed to be fighting in the field. The man was very high-strung and more than a little impulsive, so his commanding officer might have sent him back to Troy, but he should have had the day off, not been put to work at the gates.

“You’re not on gate duty, Pedasus.” I pointed out. “Weren’t you fighting in the field today?”

“Yes, my prince.” He agreed. “But Memnon ordered several men to go looking for you when you disappeared from the field. I returned to the walls in the hopes I might spot you from that vantage.” I felt heat creep up my face.

“I should go inform the king of my whereabouts.” I said. “Relax, Pedasus. Go home to your wife. How is she, by the way? I had heard she was taken ill.”

“She’s still quite sick, my prince.” He looked slightly annoyed at the whole ordeal. “I hope she recovers before the child is born.”

“Hopefully your child will not get sick as well.” I smiled and clapped his shoulder before departing from the wall. Guards passed along my safe state from where I entered Troy all across the city and out to the field more efficiently than I expected. Normally, I would have gone straight back to the field, but the distinct lack of armor and weapons made that an impossibility. I would either have to search the forest for my weapons and armor or go to the armory to get new supplies. I was confident that, during my absence my second-in-command, Sarpedon, would be able to manage our men appropriately.

As I made my way into the palace, I ran into Helen and Paris. Paris hardly left her side and, while she loved him, there were times that Helen got as annoyed with him as I did. I never went into battle with my younger brother because he preferred fighting from the wall of Troy, stopping here and there to fuck his wife, then returning to enhance his status as the best archer in the war. He avoided all other forms of combat, not because he was bad at them, though he wasn’t as talented as me, but because he wanted to focus on his strengths so he could survive to stay with Helen.

“Brother!” Paris embraced me. “They said you disappeared from the front line! We were terrified for you!”

“I had an encounter with Achilles.” I admitted. Helen gasped in shock. “Our personal battle had us in the midst of the forest. I managed to get the better of him, but he escaped before I could finish the job.” Okay, I was a terrible liar, but I was masking my lie with as much truth as I could and hoping for the best. Paris, while a phenomenal archer and a good warrior, was not all that observant. Hence, the trouble we were in with two particular goddesses at the moment.

“Where is all your armor and weapons?” He asked, immediately accepting my words.

“Our fight had us losing weapons and the armor came off as we continued to brawl.” I was trying  _not_  to flush at the memory of the exact type of “brawling” we had actually done. “I came back to check on the battle before returning to collect my armor and weapons.”

“Nonsense, my son.” Priam entered the hall and approached us. “Send a party of your men for your armor. Or, rather, get more from the armory.”

“I am full capable of finding my armor myself.” I pointed out. “And I must return to the field as soon as possible.”

“We must plan.” My father shook his head. “The assembly has been plotting a new plan of attack that should break the Greeks.” I almost rolled my eyes. They had been trying since the beginning of the war to find a fool-proof way to finally beat back the Greeks for good. Nothing has come from any plan and no matter how many times I argued for it, peace was  _never_  allowed to be an option.

“Of course, Father.” I nodded, hiding my annoyance and distaste with practiced ease. “Please excuse me.” I nodded to Helen and clapped Paris on the shoulder before departing their company behind my father. We barely made it into a side hallway before he rounded on me.

“You quitted the field for a  _duel_?!” He was furious.

“Forgive me, Father, for I did not mean to endeavor to survive in order to grant you a son, Andromache a husband, and Astyanax a father. Let’s not mention an elder brother to Paris, Deiphobus, Helenus, Pammon, Polites, Antiphus, Hipponous, Polydorus, Troilus, Laodice, Polyxena, Cassandra, and Creusa, not to mention all the  _other_  children you have that I help care for and protect. In addition, I was also trying to preserve one of Troy’s top generals and the heir to the throne of Troy. Forgive me, Father. Next time, I’ll avoid preserving my life.” I replied evenly as we walked.

“No!” He snapped. “You will  _not_  throw guilt on me, son!”

“I was attacked.” I retorted calmly. “It was my duty as a warrior to fight and my duty as a general to attempt to give us an upper hand against the Greeks by defeating Achilles.”

“You  _quitted_  the field!”

“I was  _about_  to go back.” I replied. “Unfortunately, the assembly requires my services.”

“You have responsibilities  _here_!”

“Then why do you condemn me for quitting the field?”

“I’ll have no sass from you.” Father halted before the assembly room.

“I apologize, Father.” I looked him dead in the eye, my head held tall. “I only wish to ascertain how I upset you and how to avoid do so again.” He  _loathed_  how calm I always was when he yelled. I knew I was baiting him, but I was forced to fight, kill men, and watch men die every day for years. My attitude was not what it should have been, but I also shouldn’t have been murdering men and destroying families for nearly a decade simply so my brother could have sex.

“Get inside.” Father growled at me. “And be respectful.”

The assembly was long and boring and completely not worth my time. Contrary to my father’s words, there was not a single plan of attack ready. Every plan they asked me to look at had major flaws in them. My father was furious when I kept pointing out the holes in the plans. I offered several solutions, but not one was agreed upon. When I returned to my rooms, Astyanax demanded much of my attention. Andromache watched, amused, as I entertained our son with stories and gentle wrestling. Astyanax was always a shy child, avoiding contact with those he felt uncomfortable with and even hiding when a guard entered the room, but when he was around Andromache or me, he livened up and played just like every other child his age. It was a shame that he didn’t have any playmates in the palace, but there was little to be done about it.

That night, I had dreams of scorching touches, blue eyes, and frantic desperation and when I woke, panting and hard, guilt plagued my mind. Out of stubbornness more than anything else, I refused to acknowledge the erection and forced myself to go back to sleep. When we woke the next morning, Andromache was her normal, sweet self, and my guilt lessened slightly. I was more than a little romantic that morning, much to Astyanax’s chagrin, but at my wife’s tinkling laughter, I knew it was worth it. She and Astyanax bade me good luck on the field and to return home safely when I departed from their company. I prayed to the gods that I wouldn’t meet Achilles ever again as I walked to the fields.

The gods must have been laughing at me because I spotted Achilles in the middle of the afternoon. I realized that he  _had_  in fact gone back for his armor, unless he had more than one set of golden armor lying around. I had already fallen back, eaten, and rested one that day and had just pushed to the front again when I spotted the golden-clad man. He sported no limp, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he felt better or if he was hiding it the pain. I kept fighting, knowing there was no escape when I was right in the thick of things. I spotted Eudorus and Patroclus close behind Achilles and Odysseus and Ajax no far behind. The group of Greek leaders stopped immediately before me as did every single one of their warriors. The entire group of Myrmidons stopped fighting completely, only blocking any attack my Trojans made. I made the call for my men to pause and hesitated for a long moment before stepping towards the group of Greek leaders. Odysseus stepped forward and nodded at me in respect. I nodded back, completely confused and trying not to mess up whatever small peace had just happened.

“We would like to sue for peace.” He called in Luwian. My men, who had all been fidgeting nervously, froze in shock.

“I would like to offer peace for the day,” I replied, “While we discuss the potential for lasting peace.” Odysseus nodded and the calls to halt the fighting entirely were made. I called several of my younger men forward. “Send word back to Troy.” I told them. “Have a tent and pillows brought forth.” They ran off and I removed my helmet, wiping the sweat from my brow with a long sigh. I ran my fingers through my hair and abruptly realized that the tie holding the dark curls back from my face had fallen out at some point. Sarpedon came forward, eyeing the group of Greeks as he took my helmet from me.

“Are they serious, my prince?” He asked, ever relying on formalities, though we were practically brothers with how much time we spent together on the battlefield. Astyanax even referred to him as “uncle”.

“I believe so.” I answered as I avoided looking at the Greeks, specifically the one in gold. “Collect the injured and bury the dead. Even if nothing comes of this, we should honor our dead and wounded.”

“Yes, my prince.” He bowed his head and sent out the orders while I tried to tame my wild mane. When he returned to my side, he offered me a string for my hair that I accepted gratefully. I felt the cold steel eyes on me as I tied the unruly locks back from my face and promptly ignored them. “Can we trust them?” Sarpedon asked me as we waited for the tent to get set up.

“Absolutely not.” I replied. “Yet, somehow, I believe they are sincere.”

“Agamemnon and Menelaus are not part of the group.” He pointed out.

“That’s why I think they’re sincere.” I said, dryly. Sarpedon chuckled. “Without those two, peace may actually happen.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” He said. “It appears King Priam will be leading the peace talks himself.” I swore under my breath and glanced up to see my father’s envoy leaving the gates of Troy.

“If I kill him to promote the peace, is it still treason?” I muttered.

“Yes, my prince.” Sarpedon grinned. I was taking liberties with my opinions, though I trusted my second more than I trusted my father at the moment. The tent was being quickly erected in the large gap between us and the Greeks and soft pillows were laid about as seats for us in the shade. For their part, the Greeks appeared unimpressed by my father’s approach, which made me feel a little better about being so cynical about the King of Troy. I walked under the tent, followed closely by Sarpedon, and sat down on a pillow, attempting to relax myself so I didn’t violently attack my father for being a pompous ass. I beckoned Odysseus, Ajax, Achilles, and their seconds forward under the tent.

“I apologize in advance for my king.” I murmured to them in Greek as they sat down on pillows, not moving my lips. It was dangerous to have my opinions on my father well-known, but I wanted peace more than I distrusted the Greeks’ ambitions. “He  _will_  insult you.”

“I believe we have experience with offensive kings.” Odysseus replied, also switching to Greek, his mouth moving even less than mine.

“Is your king not also your father?” Achilles asked in the same manner as he sat next to me with Eudorus standing behind him.

“Indeed.” I agreed, not appreciating, or perhaps appreciating too much, how close Achilles was sitting to me. His scent washed over me, slightly tangy with the salt from his sweat, but still the masculine musk and soapy aroma made my skin flush with arousal, though I did manage to beat down the erection. “But he is not my father throughout these talks. My father taught me more diplomacy than my king will show.” No one spoke for a long moment when I abruptly realized that my father was going to take his sweet time getting to us in order to make the Greeks impatient.

“Seconds, have a seat.” I sighed. “There is peace for the day and you will need your rest in case these talks do not go well.” The Greek seconds didn’t move until their leaders beckoned them to, but they all sat gratefully as soon as they were able. I contemplated starting without my father, but he’d be angrier than I had ever seen and take it out on the peace talks just to spite me. I abruptly decided I would not stand in respect when my father entered as my own subtle rebellion against his prideful negligence.

“King Priam of Troy.” My father’s personal bodyguard stepped into the tent, introducing the king in Luwian as he dismounted from his horse. So, my father wanted to see how many Greek deigned to learn our language. Moron. My father entered, theatrically swishing his cape around and taking in all the warriors relaxing on the pillows. No one stood, which almost made me die laughing. Father almost flinched with the blow the silence created.

“Please have a seat, good king.” Odysseus indicated the seat next to me, obviously claiming the host role in the tent, and subtly taking power away from my father. Technically, the host rite was mine, but I willingly handed over the reins to Odysseus as long as he shamed my father. I knew better than to root against my own people in this war, but with all the judgment and negativity my father had been flooding my way since the war began, I was probably a little too open to seeing  _him_  get in trouble. Especially since he praised Paris at every turn for winning Helen’s heart and rescuing her from Menelaus and never once reprimanded him for bringing war to our people and rarely ever actually fighting in said war.

“I must admit, this talk of peace comes as a great surprise.” Father said, sitting and frowning at me in disappointment. I was going to get an earful as soon as we got home. “But I do not see your king.” I almost flinched at the insult to Odysseus, who merely nodded sagely. The man had the patience of a god.

“King Menelaus and King Agamemnon do not approve of these talks.” He admitted. “That being said, we three represent a large portion of the Greek armies in terms of number as well as a huge majority of the morale for the Greek army. We have decided to sue for peace because we wish to end the fighting and return home. Understand that if we claim peace between us, we will not fight  _for_  you, but we will stop fighting _against_  you.”

Odysseus took charge of the talks, taking as much power from my father as humanly possible while still making him think that he had all the power. Father did his best to insult and turn the Greeks away from peace. At one point, he managed to infuriate Achilles so much that the Greek had to get up and walk away from the talks. Eudorus left with him, leaving only Ajax, Odysseus, and their seconds against my father. Achilles didn’t return for the rest of the talks. I got so fed up with my father that I called for a respite from the talks for several minutes.

“They do not really want peace.” Father confided in me when we were out of earshot.

“They seem stubborn about it.” I disagreed. “And baiting them into anger will only ensure this war never ends.”

“Hush.” Father glowered. “The gods smile upon us. We have lasted years of this war.”

“We’re running out of reserves.” I pointed out. “And the Greeks have killed thousands of our men and they have done just as well against us. Who do the gods really smile upon?”

“Do not blaspheme, Hector.” Father growled. I sighed and followed him back into the tent. It was a long afternoon listening to my father try to stop any form of peace and Odysseus still managing to get him to agree to certain new peaceful conventions. I was forced to return with Father to go directly to the assembly to relay what had happened. It was a long exhausting meeting and darkness had fallen before I could escape. I was so tired when I finally made my way back to my room, hoping to see my wife and son, the sight of the red liquid on the floor took me longer than it should have to figure out that it was blood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andromache is found dead, Priam is a supreme dickburger, and Hector gets kidnapped.

My heart stopped and immediately my brain woke as adrenalin shot through me. I walked to the bed and fell to my knees, merely staring at the lifeless body of my wife. I reached forward and touched her, just to make sure, but no. She was frozen. How long had she been lying there? My hands fisted into the sheets unconsciously as I took in her form. She had been surprised from behind. Cold blood pooled from her back where the attacker stabbed her at first. He then slit her throat before dumping her onto the bed. She hadn’t been prepared. She was probably all alone–

Astyanax.

My brain went on full alert as panic flooded through me. Where was my son? There was no other body lying around the room. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Astyanax?” I called.

“Daddy!” My five-year-old son slithered out from under the bed, tears streaking down his face. I gathered him into my arms, feeling my panic slowly seep away. “Daddy, there was a man! He hurt Momma and then he–”

“Don’t worry.” I hushed him, hugging him tightly. “Everything will be fine. I promise, Astyanax.” I stood up, abruptly realizing how much blood I had gotten both on me and my son. I backed out of the room, trying to keep my son from seeing his dead mother, whispering soothing statements into his ear. I walked back to the assembly room, gathering bits and pieces from Astyanax as he calmed down enough to speak.

“We were playing hide-‘n-seek an’ I was gonna hide under the bed an’ a man walked into the room an’ he looked at me an’ smiled an’ I crawled under the bed ‘cause he scared me. He walked to the balcony where Momma was an’ she made a funny noise like this–” Astyanax let out a muffled yelp, enlightening me to the notion that the man had his hand over her mouth when he stabbed her the first time. “An’ then Momma fell on the bed an’ the man left. I was waiting for Momma to get up to find me, but she didn’t go anywhere. I was gonna get up, but I was scared ‘caused Momma hadn’t moved at all an’ Momma always moves, even when she’s sleeping.”

“Yes, she does.” I agreed. “Do you remember what the man looked like?”

“He was skinny an’ looked like one of the guards.” He said, pointing at one as we passed him in the hallway. “He had hair like yours, Daddy, but he looked scary and you look nice.” I nodded as we approached the assembly room, where I knew my father still was. I kicked the doors in, still cradling my son gently, drawing every set of eyes in the room. They froze in shock as they took in my bloody countenance.

“Someone murdered my wife.” I spoke calmly. “Double the security on the palace. Immediately.” There was a moment of hesitation before each leader leapt up, calling orders to their guards and giving out the orders. I found a chair and sat, hugging my son tightly and preventing him from seeing my tears or feel how badly I was shaking. My life had immediately fallen apart and I didn’t know what I was going to do.

“Daddy, what’s ‘murdered’ mean?” Astyanax murmured, huddling close to me when the noise from the room frightened him. “Why didn’t Momma get up?” I quickly wiped the evidence of my tears away and looked into the chocolate brown eyes that mirrored mine exactly.

“Momma…” I hesitated. How could I tell a five-year-old that his entire world was about to fall apart? How could I tell him that his primary caretaker was gone, never to return? How could I destroy his innocence at such a young age? But, how could I lie to him? Lying wouldn’t help him any. “‘Murdered’ means ‘killed’.” I explained. “Momma is dead. She’s gone to the Underworld. The gods decided she was so nice that they wanted to have her for themselves.”

“Will she come home when she’s done playing with them?” My heart fractured at his innocence.

“No, Astyanax.” My voice broke and several rebellious tears leaked past my stubborn will. “Momma is dead. She won’t be coming home. She’s gone.” He stared at me, trying to ascertain the truth from my eyes.

I could see when the knowledge hit home. When his entire world was demolished.

His face fell and a hysterical wail bubbled up from his chest. I held him tightly, letting his sob and rocking him gently. My heart fell apart as I listened to his sobs, tearing down my self-control as the tears leaked. I don’t know how long we sat there, me holding my terrified son and trying to keep from losing it, too. When he finally calmed down, I looked into his eyes again and pressed a kiss to his forehead while I gently wiped his tears away.

“I’m going to miss her, too.” I admitted. “But we have to be strong. For Momma. You know how she’d want you to be happy even though she’s not here.” Astyanax nodded, still sniffling and hiccupping miserably.

“Hector, my son.” Priam approached us and Astyanax hid his face into my chest, nervously. Father had never been particularly close to his grandson, especially because he was born in the middle of the war and Father was busy trying to run the war and take care of his own multitude of children. Astyanax also hated being emotional in front of his grandfather because he wanted to be strong like me. Or so Andromache had told me.

“Father, forgive me for my lack of tact, but I cannot speak with you now.” I sighed. “I must care for my son and make arrangements for Andromache’s funeral.”

“We found the weapon.” Father said, ignoring my wishes. “It belongs to Achilles.” Instantly, doubt bloomed in my mind. The Greek was headstrong and arrogant, but he wouldn’t stab my wife in the back before slitting her throat and dumping her on the bed. He had far too much pride for that. Even though he didn’t much care for my wife, he had no reason to kill her and not kill Astyanax. The murderer had definitely seen my son before killing my wife. Someone must have followed Achilles and me into the forest and taken his dagger when we were otherwise occupied. I knew Odysseus was capable of sneaking in and out of Troy without even trying, but I couldn’t see Achilles either wanting or being able to get in and out of the city without being noticed. It just didn’t make any sense.

“Achilles didn’t do it.” I denied the implication. “He’s not the type of person to utilize sneak attacks and subtle machinations like this. Someone framed him and, as much as I loathe to admit it, it was probably a Trojan. If it wasn’t a Trojan, a Trojan helped.” Stinging pain from my father’s open-handed slap stopped my theory short. Rage boiled in my belly and it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep myself from punching my father in the face.

“How dare you?!” Father snapped, growling at me. Astyanax shivered against me and my arms tightened around him. “You would put a Greek, that Greek in particular, ahead of your own people?!” I stood up slowly and let my father see the rage in my eyes. He took a step back, startled and terrified, and I shifted Astyanax to my hip.

“My wife was just murdered in my bed, Father.” I spoke softly. “I must care for my son and make arrangements for the funeral. I may be mentally compromised, but I know that Achilles did not kill Andromache. Tell me, Father, how could a warrior as renowned as Achilles gotten into the city, much less the palace, murdered only one royal, not touching a hair on my son’s head, and gotten out without any guards seeing him?” I let the words sink in. “If you will excuse me, Father, I wish to focus on my son.” I turned to walk away, but hesitated for a long second. “Oh, and Father,” I looked back at him, “The next time you attempt to strike me, I will defend myself.” Yes, it was a threat. No, I didn’t care.

“My king!” One of the guards produced the bloody dagger to my father and I bit back a flinch. The assembly members all gathered around the weapon, muttering about Achilles as they recognized the lion engraved on the pommel. I rolled my eyes.

“Achilles! How did he get in here?” One man asked loudly.

“He didn’t.” I replied, drawing everyone’s eyes, including my father’s furious ones.

“My prince, it is his dagger.” The man said slowly.

“I’m aware.” I said. “I’ve seen it up close in battle, which is more than any of you can say. But Achilles lost that dagger yesterday in the forest and he was still without it today, even though he had everything else. Someone must have followed us in our brawl and stolen it while we were fighting. There’s no way a Greek could have gotten into the city, much less the palace, with how well-guarded we are. Achilles could not have done this. Astyanax saw the murderer and described him as a Trojan guard with dark hair and dark eyes. Achilles is none of those. Achilles is being framed.”

“My son is tired and not in his right mind!” Father spoke loudly, as if that could erase the logic in my words. “Achilles is obviously the culprit! We must counter this maneuver rapidly to show those Greeks that one cannot simply walk into our city and murder a royal!”

“It was not Achilles!” I argued. “Astyanax–”

“Is a child!” Father interrupted me angrily. “He wouldn’t know the difference between a Greek guard and a Trojan guard at his age!”

“You underestimate his intelligence.” I snapped, fury making me lose all patience. “You are choosing to ignore the obvious facts that point to this being a Trojan! A Greek could not have gotten in without being seen! Astyanax was left alive! Why would a Greek do that? You are entirely relying on the circumstantial evidence of a dagger, which I know was lost, rather than on the eye-witness testimony of your grandson! Why is that, Father? Do you hate peace so much that you would frame allow murderers on our own guard to walk freely?”

“You are emotionally compromised!” Father shouted at me. “Your flat denial of the truth and your adamant defense of Achilles shows how treacherous you truly are. You would have us kowtow to the whims of the Greeks! You are exiled for treason. You are stripped of your title and your rights as a Trojan man.” I was frozen, unable to even think past my father’s words. I hugged Astyanax closer to me as Priam continued. “Guards, escort Hector from the city. Let it been known throughout that he is exiled and is no Trojan. No mercy should be shown to him. Take Astyanax from him. I’ll not have my grandson influenced by a traitor.”

“No!” I stepped back from the guards, protecting him with all of my might. “Exile me if you wish, but don’t you dare take him from me!” The guards hesitated as they looked at me. I had been their commanding officer for so long that they weren’t sure how to react. Their king had forced them to both kick me out of my city and to take my son from me. They knew better than to try and take away the only thing I had left in the world. I was a caged tiger with only one thought: protect my son. I would kill these men if they tried to take him away, and they knew it, too.

“Get my grandson away from the traitor!” Father barked angrily, backing away from me with the rest of the assembly. The guards lurched forward to their duty, trying to get Astyanax from me without hurting either one of us. I responded violently. Even without the use of my arms, since I was still cradling my son firmly, I protected us with brutal efficiency. The guards abruptly realized they would have to use force to get me away from my son. My father started screaming as I tried to get out of the room. They started approaching in groups, trying to distract me. I dodged from a fist, rolling on the ground and holding Astyanax close so he wouldn’t touch the floor at all. A guard hit me in the head with his shield. My vision blackened for a moment and stars swam before my eyes as Astyanax was stolen from my limbs and guards grabbed my arms. I screamed at the loss while panic and fury blossomed in my chest.

“Astyanax!” I fought the guards on my arms wildly, desperate to get my son back. Five more guards added their strength to the first two, but I ignored their attempt to pull me away. My son was crying for me. I had to get to him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. “Astyanax!” The guards somehow managed to drag me back from the assembly members and my son.

“Daddy!” My father held my son in a bruising grip by the arm as the five-year-old struggled to get back to me, crying hysterically.

“I will come back for you, Astyanax!” I looked directly into his eyes, hoping he could see my solemn vow. “I will! I swear on my life I will come back for you! I will never stop fighting for you!” I was hauled from the room, but I didn’t stop fighting. I would never stop fighting until Astyanax was in my arms again. The guards swapped one at a time with fresh guards in order to keep me from escaping, but I didn’t stop struggling.

When they dragged me through the city streets, I continued fighting and screaming for my son. People, my people, stared in shock as they saw their beloved protector covered in blood as he was forcibly ejected from his son and city. Their whispers and questions fell on deaf ears as the guards forced me from everything I held dear. The people followed the guards, demanding answers and trying to get them to stop. Several people ran back to the palace to figure out what was going on. They wouldn’t get any answers from the absurdity of that place. The guards slammed the gates shut on me, but I wouldn’t stop fighting. My son needed me. I had to save him from the insanity that was my father.

My entire world had been shattered in an instant. I had nothing.

Weariness and exhaustion crept over me and I tried to think. I needed shelter and weapons if I was going to survive outside Troy. I needed weapons in order to get back into Troy to save Astyanax. My mind immediately jumped to the weapons and I armor I had left in the forest and I started walking. Night had fallen completely and I knew I’d need fire to survive. I tore one of the torches off the wall next to the gate and ran to the forest. My mind wandered wildly as I tried to focus enough to find my weapons.

Odysseus.

The king had been trying for peace since the war began. He was reasonable and would hear me out. I could persuade him to help me get into the city to save Astyanax. He had a son himself. He would help. I started for the beaches, hoping I could figure out which camp was his without getting killed first. As I got nearer and nearer to the beach, a sense of unease settled in my gut and I took several deep breaths. I had to stay calm if I wanted to save Astyanax.

“Look what we’ve got here.” I froze at the Greek words and turned to see Greek scouts, sitting on horseback and leering at me. “I do believe it’s a Trojan prince.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hector beats the shit out of Agamemnon, he tames a horse, and Achilles comforts him in the only way Achilles can.

“What are you doing out by your lonesome, prince?” One Greek asked, not relaxing his grip on his bow.

“I am no longer a prince.” I replied, my voice destroyed by all the panicked screaming I had been doing. “I have been exiled.”

“Ha! Like Priam’s dumb enough to shove off his best commander.” A third man snorted. “I say we take him back to Agamemnon. I’m sure he’ll figure out what’s going on.”

“Come on, prince.” The first Greek got off his horse and approached me with a length of rope. “No funny business, now.” I couldn’t think of a way to get away from the men without getting shot by the one with the bow before the man wrapped the rope around my wrists tightly. He took the torch from me and attached the other end of the rope to his saddle.

“Let’s go.” I stumbled along behind the horse, hoping Odysseus would be watching what was happening so I wouldn’t remain in Agamemnon’s company for long. We broke over the dunes and the sight of the Greek camps made my stomach clench. I had seen them from afar for nearly a decade, but getting up close and personal was  _not_  something I ever expected to experience. Greeks came out of their tents, eyeing me warily and blinking at the shock as they recognized me. I spotted Patroclus sitting next to a fire alone. He looked up and when his eyes met mine, they widened in shock. Immediately, he sprinted away, likely to get his cousin and relief filled me. Any sort of ally in Agamemnon’s tent would do.

“Inside, Trojan.” My captors dismounted from their horses and led me into the largest tent in the camp.

“What is the meaning of th–” Agamemnon silenced when I was shoved forward. I stumbled with the motion, but didn’t fall. I straightened my back and looked Agamemnon in the eye. “Well, if it isn’t Hector, the Crown Prince of Troy.” He sneered at me.

“Actually,” I smiled back, “I’ve been exiled. I’m not even considered Trojan anymore.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Agamemnon frowned. “Priam isn’t stupid enough to exile the only hope his city has.”

“Well, you might want to tell  _him_  that.” I replied. “Because he’s under the impression that I’m an exile.”

“Watch your mouth, boy!” Agamemnon pulled his hand back to hit me and I ducked, shoving my tied up fists into his gut. He went down with a loud curse and I took advantage of that, kicking him violently. I don’t know what happened to all of my tact and diplomacy, but all I wanted was my son. I didn’t have time to entertain Agamemnon’s pride. There were more important things to do. My captors yelled in surprise and used the rope to yank me away from their king. I spun with the motion, hitting the bowman in the face with the heel of my foot.

“Get him!” Someone yelled. I continued fighting, easily overpowering the guards who came to Agamemnon’s rescue even with my hands tied. I managed to get the rope itself away from the Greeks, so they couldn’t tug me around anymore. I got several more hits in on the king before someone stepped between me and the Greek king.

“Halt this madness.” Odysseus said, loudly enough to take control of the room. Everyone stopped. Agamemnon, face purple with rage, sputtered loudly in protest and wiped the blood from his nose away.

“Why are you here, Odysseus?” He asked angrily.

“I’m here for Hector.” Odysseus said simply. “You see, he came here at my bidding in order to discuss the peace between my men and his.”

“There will be no peace!” Agamemnon roared.

“Maybe not for you.” Odysseus smiled. “But Hector is my guest in these camps. You’ve taken liberties with kidnapping him and tying him up, but I’ve claimed guest rights for him. Please release him from his bonds.”

“No need.” I muttered, finally getting the rope untied. I had been working on it throughout the duration of the fight.

“Wonderful.” Odysseus turned to me. “We’ll just be on our way, then.”

“Hold on!” Agamemnon snapped. “He’s my prisoner!”

“He’s my guest.” Odysseus replied wryly. “We’re negotiating peace.”

“He can’t negotiate anything!” Agamemnon argued. “He’s an exile!”

“Oh, did  _he_  tell you that, then?” Odysseus smirked. “Funny, with all your hatred for Trojans, you sure do believe their stories.” Odysseus led me from the tent before Agamemnon could come with a reply. Immediately outside the tent stood Achilles, Patroclus, Ajax, the Myrmidons, and all of Odysseus’ men in a large mob. Odysseus quickly shoved me into the group just as Agamemnon exited his tent with his guards behind him, furious. The group of Greeks surrounded me, creating a large wall between myself and any of Agamemnon’s men.

“Give him back! He is a prisoner!” Agamemnon snapped. I couldn’t see any of the leaders anymore, but the men around me snickered softly.

“I dare you to take him back.” Odysseus replied. “If so, prepare yourself for a rebellion, Agamemnon. If not, go back to your tent and eat some grapes or something.” Ajax started leading Odysseus’ men back to their side of the camp. The Greeks gestured for me to go with them, still encircled by their protective barrier. I could still hear Agamemnon arguing loudly with Odysseus and Odysseus being snarky right back when the Greeks around me started sniggering loudly.

“I don’t know what you did to piss Agamemnon off, prince,” One man looked at me with a grin, “But it’s fucking hilarious.”

“Did you see the bloody nose that moron had?” Another man spoke up. “Did  _you_  do that, prince?” I nodded, a little bit confused as to what was going on. I knew Patroclus was the reason I had been saved, but it was weird to be having friendly conversation with men I had been murdering for years and had just been fighting hours previous.

“Thank you for your help!” Ajax called to the men as we were safely ensconced in Odysseus’ territory. The men, still laughing about Agamemnon, departed from my company to go back to their tents, Ajax approached me and offered his hand. I shook it, still very lost. He looked me over. “You’re covered in blood. Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Hector!” Patroclus joined us, a little out of breath from running to catch up. “Are you hurt?”

“I just asked him that.” Ajax rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m fine.” I looked at the young man, who smiled at my words.

“Good. I’m Patroclus.” I shook his hand. “You spared me the other day.”

“I’m aware. I believe we are now even, since you’re the reason Odysseus, Achilles, and Ajax came to my aid.” I replied.

“There was nothing else to do.” Patroclus shrugged. “We try to keep all the prisoners from Agamemnon, because he’s a tyrant. Besides, I couldn’t fight off all your captors at once by myself, so I needed back up. I’m good, but not  _that_  good, yet.”

“You’re fighting  _is_  good, but very impatient and reckless.” I replied. Ajax laughed heartily as Patroclus’ face fell.

“That’s what Achilles says every time we spar.”

“That’s because it’s true.” Odysseus joined our group, followed closely by Achilles.

“The Myrmidons are going to stand watch around our camps for the next couple hours, just in case Agamemnon tries something stupid.” Achilles announced.

“Good.” Ajax nodded sagely.

“Now, if I might ask, why are you covered in blood, Hector? Also, why did you decide to traipse into our camps at night?” Odysseus looked me over, as did Achilles, who was frowning at the sight of blood covering me.

“My wife was murdered.” I don’t know how I got the words out, but they hurt less every time I said them.  I looked at Achilles. “Someone was trying to frame you for it. I disagreed with the circumstantial evidence and my father exiled me.”

“What about your son?” Achilles asked, interrupting me. “Is he unhurt?”

“He took my son away. I need to get back into Troy so I can get Astyanax back.” I answered, unsure how to take Achilles’ concern for my son.

“Oh, gods.” Ajax swore. “How dumb is Priam?”

“Pretty damn dumb.” Odysseus, Achilles, and I chorused.

“The murderer had my dagger, didn’t he?” Achilles asked me. I nodded.

“My son was in the room and saw a Trojan guard enter. He hid under the bed and the man killed my wife and left. The fact that Astyanax was left alive in addition to what he saw is the biggest evidence against the dagger.” I explained. “I don’t know who–”

“Pedasus.” Odysseus interrupted me.

“What?”

“Your guardsman, Pedasus, did it.” He replied. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up and find you somewhere to sleep. Nothing can be done tonight, the palace is on too high of an alert. Also, I have a plan to stop the fighting once and for all tomorrow. All I have to do is adapt it slightly to get you your son and crown back.”

“I don’t care about my crown.” I frowned. “How do you know it was Pedasus? What’s your plan for tomorrow? How am I going to get my son back? When did you–” Achilles’ hand came up and covered my mouth, a large smirk on his lips. I abruptly realized that it was a mockery of our coupling in the forest and flushed.

“You ask too many questions, Trojan.” Achilles said. “Odysseus will tell us in due time.”

“I’ll tell you tonight, if you wish.” Odysseus shrugged. “But I’d rather not in the open and especially not when you’re covered in your dead wife’s blood.”

“I’m not technically a Trojan anymore, Greek.” I snapped, freeing my lips from his palm with a shake of my head.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” Ajax chuckled. “There’s more than one Greek here.”

“I was operating under the assumption that it was an understood statement towards the individual who had called me ‘Trojan’, since that was the statement I was responding to.” I replied. “Apparently, that assumption was wrong.”

“Just because he’s a prince,” Odysseus sniggered at Ajax’s dumbstruck face, “Doesn’t mean he’s not snarky.”

“Shut up.” Ajax pouted and stomped off to his tent.

“You hurt his feelings.” Achilles smirked.

“Sometimes his pride needs to get pricked.” Odysseus shrugged. “Not unlike three other men I know.” He eyed Patroclus, Achilles, and I. “But that is for another time. Patroclus, would you be so kind as to fetch fresh water for our guest to wash himself with?” The young man ran off, happily doing his duty. It was likely a better chore than the ones Achilles had him running for stealing his armor and fighting in his stead. I shook my head. I hoped for my own sake that my son never ended up as impatient and reckless as Achilles’ young cousin.

“Watch out!” Someone yelled. We all spun to see a horse wildly panicking, running straight towards us. Instantly, Odysseus and Achilles leapt aside. I stood my ground and caught ahold of the horse’s neck, swinging up onto its back with practiced ease. The mare tried to throw me, bucking madly, but I kept my seat, patiently waiting for her to tire out. When she stopped trying to knock me off, I started petting her and murmuring soothing Greek words into her ear. While it wasn’t my native tongue, Greek was still easy for me to converse in, though my accent was still atrociously obvious. The scent of blood wasn’t helping my cause to calm her, but I still managed to quiet the mare down. She huffed, annoyed that I had talked her out of her panic. I waited until she snorted compliantly before sliding off her back and holding her steady while a Greek tied a rope around her neck.

“Now I know why you’re called ‘tamer of horses’.” Achilles approached me with aroused appreciation in his eyes as the mare was taken away, snickering unhappily.

“And you had the nerve to doubt.”  _Gods_ , what  _was_  it with the man that made me flirt?!

“Well, now that  _that_  excitement is over with,” Odysseus smirked at Achilles and me, "I think we should go to bed.”

“But what about Pedasus?” I asked.

“Well, I  _could_  tell you tonight, but it’s getting rather late and tomorrow will be a long day. So, we should all get our rest tonight.” Odysseus said. “I’ll go check on Ajax to make sure he isn’t  _that_  offended. Achilles, will you ensure our guest is well taken care of? He’ll need to bathe, eat, and a safe place to sleep.”

“Of course,” Achilles’ smirk made my stomach clench, “I  _am_  aware how to care for guests.”

“Because you have so many of them.” Odysseus teased, departing from our company.

“Could have fooled me.” I muttered, feeling anxiety fill me as the king walked away. I wanted to call him back, so I wasn’t left alone with Achilles, but the king had placed me in his mercy.

“Come, little princeling,” Achilles led me to his tent, smirking broadly.

“I’d like to dispute the ‘little’.” I muttered, feeling my face flush. “You know from experience that’s a lie.”

“Do I?” Achilles help the tent flap open, eyebrow quirked and smirk firmly in place. Annoyance flashed through me, so I leaned closer to the Greek, smirking myself. My lips brushed against his ear and a shiver slid up the warrior’s spine.

“The way you begged for more indicated that much.” Achilles stiffened and I ducked into the tent, chuckling to myself. The proud and arrogant man was surprisingly easy to shock and knock off his high horse. My thoughts halted abruptly as I looked around. I was surprised how ornate the inside of the tent was. There was more stuffed into Achilles’ tent than there was in my rooms at the palace. Pillows and incense filled the area and there was  _actually_  a  _bed_  in the tent. I blinked and stared dumbly at the area, trying to figure out where I could escape from.

“Bring it in, then get some rest.” I turned to the tent flap at Achilles’ voice. Patroclus almost ran into me with a bucket of water.

“Thank you.” I said. Patroclus shot me a smile and backed out the tent without a word. Achilles entered, shutting the flap with a snap and tying it off. He turned to face me and hesitated.

“Patroclus, ‘go rest’ means ‘go away’.” A soft curse outside the tent was followed by footsteps walking away. “Have a seat, prince.” Achilles gestured at the bed and walked over to a large basin. Stubbornly, I sat on a group of pillows as far from the bed as possible. Achilles turned around, cloth in hand and rolled his eyes when he spotted my sitting place.

“You are so utterly frustrating.” He dragged the bucket of water closer and sat next to me.

“At least you’ve admitted I’m anything but ‘little’.” I replied.

“You realize that you’re going to have to take this off, right?” Achilles tugged gently on my bloody chiton. I mentally cursed and fought the blush that emerged. Refusing to look at Achilles, I stood and tugged the cloth off my body before dumping it on the floor and sitting down again. I sat silently, waiting for Achilles to hand me the washcloth. I made the mistake of looking at Achilles when he didn’t move. His eyes dilated and focused entirely on my chest. His tongue darted out and wet his lips. I cleared my throat and his eyes flickered up to mine, dark with lust. He smirked and seemed to regain some form of control over himself because he dipped the washcloth into water bucket and started washing the dried blood from my skin.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice soft for reasons I couldn’t name.

“Cleaning you.” Achilles whispered in reply.

“I can do it myself.” Achilles’ eyes met mine as if to say “shut up and let me do this” and I stopped arguing. He washed my skin dutifully and efficiently, drawing gooseflesh across my body as it came into contact with the cool water. His eyes lingered on every inch of freshly exposed bronze skin that he cleaned. When he finished clearing the blood from me, he took the bucket outside and dumped it. I stood up and eyed the bloody chiton on the floor.

“You can wear one of mine.” Achilles said, returning to the tent and following my gaze. “That’s ruined.” He picked it up and tossed it with the bucket outside. He turned back around and gave me a once over.

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Our voices had remained in soft murmurs.

“Because we are two sides of the same coin.” Achilles replied quietly. “We are great warriors with an extensive knowledge in fighting and a desire for control and domination. Where you are honorable, I am arrogant. Where you are amiable, I am prideful. Where you are dutiful, I am insubordinate. I admire you for your traits, Hector, though I am unashamed to admit that if it wasn’t for a particular god, I would have even noticed that admiration.”

“A god?” I didn’t realize he had been stalking towards me until he paused a breath from me. I retreated, feeling more vulnerable than I’d ever felt, and it wasn’t my nakedness.

“He wished to remain unnamed.” Achilles shrugged. “In the shadows, so to speak.”

Hades. I nodded to the warrior to signal that I understood which god he spoke of and thought hard. What did Hades want with Achilles and me? Was he trying to keep us alive and out of his power or was he trying to kill us faster? Given that Achilles and I hadn’t died yet, I guessed, and hoped, that it was the former.

“Why are  _you_  so obsessed with  _me_?” Achilles asked. I opened my mouth to argue with him, but his eyes flashed as if to say “I dare you to deny it”.

“I don’t know.” I replied finally. “Andromache was a dutiful wife and an excellent mother for Astyanax. I  _did_  love her and I  _do_  miss her, but she was simple. I always knew how to care for her and make her happy. She didn’t challenge me in any respect, and, for a while, that was what I wanted. Then, I heard you were coming to Troy to fight. You had always been a bit of an enigma for me. Could I beat you in battle? What type of a warrior would you be? What type of a leader would you be? What type of a  _person_ would you be?” I ran my fingers through my hair nervously, belatedly realizing that the tie had long since fallen out. The dark curls were tangled and it was a little painful to even get my fingers through the mane. “I’ve been in battle every day for nearly a decade, honing my skills for the fight we were inevitably going to have. I respected you as a warrior, I admired your looks,” A blush stained my cheeks, “But I couldn’t say why I desperately wanted our coupling in the forest, especially with a beautiful wife waiting for me at home.”

“I see.” Achilles stalked closer and closer to me as I spoke, reminding me abruptly of the sensation of feeling like prey. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I was tired of running. I was tired to denying myself what I wanted. I wanted my city back. I wanted to punch my father in the face. I wanted my son. I wanted the war to end.  _I wanted him._  I grabbed his chiton and dragged him forward, kissing him deeply. I put all of me into that kiss, hoping Achilles could understand what I was trying to convey. I didn’t want just another fuck in the woods. I didn’t want rough and fast and more, more, more. I didn’t want to force him into taking all of me for my own pleasure. I wanted Achilles in all his glory. I wanted his skin under my fingers and lips. I wanted to make him want me.  _I wanted him._

My mind refused to dwell on the implications of such thoughts.

Mere days before, we had been enemies, striving to kill as many warriors as possible to help our side win. The flirting, though, had always been present. For nearly a decade, our fighting skills teased and tormented each other, playfully showing off how talented we were. The romance had snuck in deviously a few scant days before my life was destroyed, but our bodies slick with sweat, grinding together sensually in a desperate need for more, more, more, had been years in the making.

“I thought you regretted what happened.” Achilles breathed hard against my lips, pressing our foreheads together.

“I lied.” My hands found his ass and dragged our hips together, relishing in the friction it granted. Achilles growled wordlessly and hauled me to his bed. He shoved me down and quickly yanked his clothes off.

“I will never admit, in a thousand years of torture, that your accent is the sexiest thing I have ever heard.” Achilles’ voice was gruff as he crawled over me. Brief fear flickered through me at being beneath him, but I shoved it away. I wanted. More than I had ever wanted in my life. He had bottomed for my pleasure, so it was only right to grant him the same privilege, especially since he came to my aid and was planning on helping me get my son back. I ignored the little voice in the back of my mind that pointed out how much I wanted to feel him fill me.

“I think you just did.” I smirked. I may have accidentally-on-purpose let my accent thicken just to see the slivers of control snap. Achilles bent his head and breathed in my scent, touching his nose to my neck as his whole body shivered with pleasure.

“You think too much.” His voice promised sinful pleasure and a nervous tension started to build in my gut.

“Would you like me to stop?” I teased, flicking my tongue against his ear. Okay, so thickening my accent was completely on purpose, but visually seeing Achilles lose control was  _definitely_  worth it. He kissed me deeply, burying his fingers in my hair and grinding our hips together. I groaned at the friction and slid my fingers into his silky golden locks. He pulled back slightly, his dark gaze focused on me.

“You talk too much.” He growled.

“You like it.” I threw at him.

“How can you tell?” His hips rolled and a surprised groan was startled from my throat.

“No idea.” I replied. “Perhaps you’ll have to show me.”

“Perhaps?” Achilles chuckled. “Are you expecting some  _other_  activity?”

“I’m expecting you to fuck me,” I retorted with a grin, “But you seem too busy being a smartass about it to do anything.” The curse made Achilles jerk and the insult made his eyes narrow.

“I’ll show you–”

“You keep promising that, but I don’t see any action happening.” I was taunting my captor and I was  _enjoying_  it. Even though it was always enjoyable, sex with my wife was never  _fun_. There was never laughter when Andromache and I slept together and I didn’t even realize that it was a possibility until I was teasing Achilles and startling laughter from both of us. Achilles growled wordlessly and kiss me deeply, sliding between my legs and grinding our erections together. He dropped his face to my neck, biting hard. The mark on his neck had not yet healed, so I happily claimed the mark he was painting on me.

“What is it with us and pain?” Achilles growled against my neck.

“Achilles.” The man above me froze at my groan and I realized that I had never said his name to him. A sense of power welled in my chest and I grinned. A long, slow shudder wracked his body for a moment.

“Fuck.” He bit my neck hard, rolling our hips together in pleasure.

“Fuck  _me_.” I ordered, pulling my legs up and tightening my fingers painfully in his hair.

“So demanding.” Achilles tried to chuckle, but his arousal clouded his voice.

“If you don’t, I  _will_.” I threatened.

“Fuck, Hector.” The warrior groaned above me.

“ _Achilles._ ” My accent came out in full force and the Greek lost all semblance of control, pressing into me obediently. The stretching pain was by no means the worst pain I had ever experienced and, instead of being deterred, it was only more arousing for me. Despite all that, Achilles moved slowly, trying to ease the pain. I was having none of it. My legs wrapped around his waist and tugged, shoving him in to the hilt. I groaned at the sensation of being filled and  _wanted_. Achilles shifted his position so he could have better leverage against me and his erection touched something deep inside me that made my whole body tense with pleasure.

Every movement – every thrust, every kiss, every touch – after that dragged some noise of approval from my throat. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the brink of oblivion and I simultaneously hated and adored it. I wanted to have my release, but at the same time I just wanted to continue with the pleasure. Achilles kissed me deeply, his pace moving faster and harder as his pleasure took control of his body. I arched my back into his thrusts, aiding his desperate need for fulfillment. I don’t know how long it lasted, but a whine emerged from my chest as my orgasm snuck up on me, throwing me into blissful blackness abruptly.

“Fuck.” Achilles muttered, his whole body shaking. My vision returned and I realized that the Greek hadn’t been far behind me. We stayed there, trying to calm our quivering muscles and heaving chests for a long time before we separated our forms. My seed was splattered all over both of our chests and his was dripping from me. Achilles rolled off me and grabbed a cloth that had been strewn on the floor, cleaning the evidence of our coupling from his chest before tossing it at me. I cleansed my body of the semen and threw the rag back at him, snickering as it nearly hit him in the face.

“Getting slow, Achilles?” I smirked.

“You seemed to like slow just as much as fast.” Achilles retorted, lounging on the bed was a groan of satisfaction.

“If only to soothe your ego.” I replied. Achilles chuckled.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asked.

“That’s you’re getting slow?” I glanced at him, allowing my body to relax on his bed.

“No.” He chuckled again before his face slid into seriousness. “You lied about regretting it the first time?”

“Oh.” I returned my gaze to the top of the tent, hoping he wasn’t looking at me. “Yeah.”

“What?” The bed shifted and  _damn him for making me blush_.

“I lied.” I clarified, ignoring how my face was turning bright red. “I didn’t regret anything. If I could go back and redo that day, I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Why did you lie?” He asked.

“Because of all the reasons I told you.” I replied. “I had a wife and a duty to her and responsibilities and such. I have none of the above now.”

“You still have Astyanax.” Achilles pointed out softly.

“He’s the only reason I haven’t quitted this land completely.” I replied. “He’s so gentle and young. He wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for himself. Once I have him back, I will leave. If I cannot be Troy’s guardian, I should not be near her.”

“You could fight for the Greeks.” Achilles pointed out. I gave him a look. He shrugged and held his hands up in surrender, recognizing how dumb the statement had been.

“I could stay and help ease the tension of one particular Greek.” I suggested. “But I wouldn’t be able to do anything else without betraying my homeland completely.”

“That sounds perfect.” Achilles grinned. “Now all we need is to get Astyanax back so we can get rid of tension together.”

“There’s always the rest of tonight.” I pointed out, a wry grin on my features. Almost immediately, Achilles was back on top of me, kissing me hungrily, and his lust obviously returning with a vengeance while I laughed into his lips.

That evening was spent alternating between sleep and coupling with the Greek warrior.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Priam is still the captain of the douchecanoe, Hector kicks Agamemnon's ass again, and the Trojan War ends.

The following morning, the Greeks prepared for battle, like always, though Odysseus miraculously talked Agamemnon into waiting for him to speak with Priam before war would be waged on the field. I’m not sure how he managed it, but I couldn’t complain. Achilles provided me with the plainest chiton he had, granting me some separation from the Greeks I walked with to the battlefield. I refused the armor and weapons he offered me and spent a good hour arguing with him about it until Odysseus stepped in. Achilles was not pleased that the King of Ithaca took my side. If I showed up in Greek armor with Greek weapons, Troy would never take me back. I didn’t think Troy would take me back at all, but Odysseus was confident they would.

The walk to the battlefield was almost identical to the Trojan one: filled with jokes and overly masculine mini-competitions. Only it was all in Greek instead of Luwian. I was flanked by Achilles and Ajax with Patroclus not far behind us. Achilles had agreed to let the young man fit in today’s battle, likely because he wanted more people protecting me, especially because of my lack of armor and weapons. I stopped talking as we left the beaches, my heart in my throat. I had to save Astyanax. That was my only thought. Achilles wisely said nothing to me as we marched to meet the Trojan line. Much to my surprise, my father stood at the center of the Trojan line, Paris at one shoulder and my struggling son at the other. Astyanax was desperate to get away from the man, which made me smile. The boy had somehow found his strength. Priam wore his full armor while Astyanax wore only the clothes from the day before. Anger filled me. Priam would bring a child to the field of battle and  _not_  find  _something_  to protect the child?!

“What the  _fuck_  is your father doing?” Achilles growled. “Astyanax is only a boy!”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to  _murder_  him.” Ajax replied. The vehemence in their statements startled me. I stepped in front of the line of Greeks, calling everyone’s attention to me. Hopefully, Astyanax would see me, too. My son spotted me first, calling out to me happily.

“Daddy!” It only took Priam another second to spot me. He snarled in my direction and Paris flinched. Apparently, my father had said something not-so-nice about me.

“Hector,” Priam glowered at me, “How  _dare_  you betray us to the Greeks!”

“Daddy would  _never_  do that!” Astyanax interrupted, still struggling to get away from my father. His stubbornness and abrupt strong-will to talk back to his grandfather whereas before he was terrified of the man surprised me. Achilles chuckled under his breath next to me.

“He’s just like you.” He murmured.

“Let my son go, Priam!” I called. My father physically flinched at my disrespect and disregard for our filial relationship. I didn’t care. He had started  _that_  particular war. “And we will leave this place forever!”

“Why would I give up my grandson?”

“You gave up your son and heir.” I pointed out, making him flinch again.

“You betrayed us!”

“Daddy’s a good man!” Astyanax argued loudly enough for his five-year-old voice to carry through the ranks. “He loves Troy! He’s better’n  _you_! All  _you_  do is sit and yell at everyone! My daddy protects Troy every day! He’s the best warrior in the world! He’s better’n you!” My son’s foot struck out, violently slamming against my father’s shin, causing the older man to fall, swearing loudly. Astyanax took off running from the king, sprinting to me with all his might. Achilles shot past me before I could even prepare to run. My heart pounded in my chest as I attempted to take a step forward. I barely got two steps in when I was dragged back to the Greek line.

“Put the traitor down!” I heard my father yell in fury and panic stopped my heart. He would murder his own grandchild. I watched, struggling violently against whoever was holding me back, as Achilles slid on his knees to reach Astyanax and threw his shield up just as arrows began shooting towards them. I froze, nearly tumbling to the ground as my heart leapt to my throat. Arrows poured forth from the Trojan line as more hands grabbed my arms to hold me back.

“Astyanax!” Something in me broke and I started to struggle in earnest, trying desperately  _not_  to throw up in my panic. “Achilles!” The name issued forth unbidden from my lips and my body found the energy to blush even as my terror made me blanch. I screamed and fought, not caring about my own life as long as I knew that my son was safe. That Achilles was safe.

That thought silenced me.

“Hold!” My father yelled. The arrows stopped and everyone stopped moving, or even breathing, as we watching the golden figure surrounded by arrows, who was still crouched, unmoving. Nothing happened for a good five seconds, making alarm shoot through me. Suddenly, the gold figure started sprinting back towards the line, a dark child in his arms.

“Priam! Halt this madness!” Odysseus yelled, preventing my father from ordering another attack. “Your grandson is a  _child_!”

“The child of a traitor!” Priam replied.

“Hector did  _not_  betray you.” Odysseus said. “He was right in his assumptions that the man who murdered his wife is a Trojan. Andromache was killed by Pedasus.”

“Lies!” My father snapped.

“Let him be brought forth then.” Odysseus replied. “Have him answer these claims of treason himself.” There was shifting around on the Trojan side and Achilles reached the Greek line again, cradling Astyanax gently. Tears threatened to spring forth from my eyes as Achilles handed my son to me. I hugged him tightly, my eyes meeting Achilles’. The man had an unexpectedly fond expression on his face and it made my stomach clench uncomfortably.

“Thank you.” My voice had been ruined the night before with both my violent removal from Troy and the significant amount of sex Achilles and I had engaged in, but my latest bout of screaming only made my throat hurt more than it had before. Achilles smiled,  _really_   _smiled_ , and the knot in my stomach relaxed and I found myself smiling back at the Greek.

“I missed you, Daddy.” Astyanax mumbled. I pressed a kiss to my son’s curls and wiped the happy tears away from his face.

“I missed you, too.” I kissed his head again and again, reassuring myself that he was safe in my arms.

“Achilles is really nice.” Astyanax pulled back from me to look at the warrior. Achilles blinked in shock. “He saved me. He said you couldn’t ‘cause Grandpa didn’t let you have your armor. He said you would have if you could.”

“That’s right.” I agreed. “I will be forever in his debt because he saved you for me.” Achilles opened his mouth to argue with me, but Astyanax interrupted.

“You talk about him all the time, Daddy.” He said. “I know why.”

“Why?” I indulged my son. I knew the reasoning had been because I was worried about my eventual duel with the Greek. He was the strongest opponent I would ever face and Andromache and I talked at length on multiple occasions on how I might survive our fight. But I was interested in hearing what my son had thought about the long discussions his parents had held about the Greek warrior.

“‘Cause he’s so nice. He’s your best friend an’ you love him.”

Both Achilles and I choked at the five-year-old’s words.

“An’ he told me that he cares about you, too, so he must love you back.”

And we were officially both bright red.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Astyanax looked back and forth between Achilles and me, waiting for praise for his cunning.

“Of course you are, little one.” Odysseus ruffled Astyanax’s hair with a grin. “You’re so clever to have figured it out. Even though your father and Achilles didn’t want to admit it.” Astyanax grinned happily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a small bit of business to attend to that requires your father.”

“Okay.” Astyanax flushed at feeling important enough to excuse a grown man from his company. Despite my embarrassment, I chuckled at him and looked at Achilles.

“Will you care for him, Achilles?” I asked.

“Of course.” Achilles took my son from my arms and ruffled his hair gently. “I’ll protect him with my life.” When his blue eyes met my brown, there was no steel in his gaze, only warmth, which startled a smile out of me. “Don’t get yourself killed, Hector.”

“Why would I ever do that?” I shot him a smirk as I walked forward with Odysseus and I belatedly realized I had been flirting with the warrior. Now, the notions of love would never leave Astyanax’s mind. Odysseus and I got slightly closer to the Trojan army, though we still stayed far enough back that the arrows couldn’t reach us easily. Father, Paris, and Pedasus approached us, though they still stayed far enough away that the armies would still hear every word we spoke to each other. Odysseus was planning on airing the dirty laundry for everyone to see. It would be humiliating for Father, which amused me far more than it should have.

“My prince!” The instant Pedasus saw me, he bowed. Father glowered at the soldier.

“He is  _not_  your prince anymore!” He growled.

“Pedasus, did you kill Andromache?” I asked. The soldier looked up and the instant his eyes met mine, my heart sank.

“Answer!” Father snapped. Pedasus said nothing, though his eyes spoke volumes.

“Pedasus.” My voice was much softer, though it still carried. “Did you kill my wife?”

“Yes, my prince.” He bowed his head, avoiding my gaze. Although Odysseus had warned me, it still hurt like a physical blow. My own soldier had betrayed me and murdered my wife.

“Why?” I asked. Pedasus looked up, no regret in his eyes, only pride.

“You were falling for the Greek trap.” He explained, almost angrily. “They don’t want peace! They’ll  _never_  want peace! Achilles has been manipulating you! I  _had_  to prove it to you!”

“Pedasus, what happened to your wife?” Odysseus asked, interrupting the man’s rant. Father and Paris looked sharply at the man next to me, but said nothing. Pedasus flinched and avoided looking at the King of Ithaca, saying nothing. It appeared he would only obey me.

“Answer him.” I ordered softly.

“She was sick.” Pedasus muttered. “She… she wouldn’t  _stop_. She kept…  _needing_  things! She was sick. She wouldn’t get better. She  _wouldn’t_. She wouldn’t stop. I had to make her stop! I… she wasn’t getting better. She was too sick.”

“Did you kill her?” I asked.

“I…” Pedasus floundered. “I had to make her stop.”

“Did you kill your wife?” I asked again, slower.

“Yes.” He looked at me desperately. “ _She wouldn’t stop!_ ”

“She was pregnant and sick.” I said. “And you killed her.”

“I…” The soldier nodded, avoiding my gaze.

“Pedasus first murdered his wife and unborn child, then he followed the brawl between Achilles and Hector and stole Achilles’ blade. When we sued for peace the next day, he decided to prevent any peace attempts between us.” Odysseus explained, artfully avoiding the coupling between Achilles and I, which Pedasus likely saw. “As a Trojan guard, he easily slipped into the palace and murdered Andromache with Achilles’ blade to halt any potential peace.”

“Is this true?” Father snapped at the cowering soldier.

“Pedasus, why did you leave Astyanax alive?” I asked. He looked at me, blinking in surprise, as if the question confused him.

“He is your son. He is the heir apparent. He assures your place as Crown Prince.”

“He is an exile.” Father said sharply, thought his eyes spoke of the mistake he made. He realized how badly he had messed up.

“No! He is our prince!” Pedasus snapped. “He protects us every day!” I turned and grabbed Odysseus’ knife, knowing what was going to happen and hoping I could stop it. By the time I hurled the weapon forward, Pedasus had attacked my father. Both men went down and I charged forward just after Paris did. Paris pulled the insane soldier off Father just as I reached their side. Pedasus had been killed instantly with the knife in his eye, and Father was not far behind him. Paris and I knelt by his side, exchanging a worried glance as we looked at the knife embedded in Father’ chest.

“Hector.” I focused on his face. “You were right.” Each word was another knife to his chest. “I’m sorry. You  _are_  my son. You  _are_  my heir. You  _are_  the king.”

“Father.” I acknowledged his words, kissing his forehead.

“Father.” Paris murmured, following my example and kissing Father’s forehead. Tears fell from our eyes as our patriarch died. Paris and I hugged each other over his dead body. It was strange because I didn’t feel sadness or regret or anger or even relief, yet the tears kept coming. I felt empty inside. Perhaps the war numbed me of the pain of watching loved ones die. Perhaps Andromache’s death numbed me. It didn’t matter anymore. Paris and I soothed each other and quickly wiped the evidence of our grief away when Odysseus called my name in warning. I looked back and saw Agamemnon approaching us with his posse of leaders in tow.

“What do they want?” Paris hissed angrily as I stood up.

“To claim victory.” Odysseus replied. Paris stiffened in affront.

“They will not succeed.” I interrupted him before he could speak.

“What is your plan, brother?” Paris asked. I looked back at my younger brother, keeping my face blank and confident.

“I’m ending this war  _now_.” Something in my face must have been off because Paris blanched at the surety in my voice.

“Agamemnon! What do you want?” Odysseus called.

“Troy has no king!” Agamemnon replied. “The Greeks have felled Troy! Victory is ours!”

“Paris, give me father’s knives.” I murmured. My brother responded immediately, placing the blades in my hands.

“Her Crown Prince still stands!” Odysseus replied. “There is no victory yet!”

“What? The exiled Hector?” Agamemnon scoffed. “He is not fit to rule. Troy was left without a leader!”

“No.” I stepped forward, my voice hard. “With his dying breath, King Priam named me, the once-exiled Crown Prince, king in his stead; however, I will let Troy herself decide who shall inherit the throne once I end this war. I stand here as Troy’s guardian, her protector, her eternal ally. If you, Agamemnon, wish to take her, you must first go through me!”

Shocked silence fell on all the soldiers who were close enough to hear my words.

“ _I challenge you, Agamemnon!_ ”

The field stood silent.

“Hector!” Paris hissed quietly. “What are you  _doing_?”

“A battle of single combat to the death!” I continued, ignoring my brother. “The winner will claim victory for his side and this war will end today!” I could see Agamemnon hesitate. He couldn’t back out without being branded a coward, but he, and everyone else, knew that he couldn’t beat me. It would still be a tricky fight, especially because Agamemnon would definitely resort to cheating in order to win, not to mention subterfuge to kill me regardless.

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Odysseus murmured. I nodded my thanks to the king and stepped forward.

“I challenge you, Agamemnon!” I repeated.

Everyone remained silent for a good several minutes, waiting for him to reply.

“I accept the challenge!” The Greek king replied. He dismounted his horse and began muttering and solidifying his armor and weapons for the duel. I waited patiently, shifting Father’s knives so they sat more securely in my grip. I had no armor and no back-up weapons, but I didn’t care. Paris stood up and moved to my side.

“Take care, brother.” Worry shone in his eyes.

“Keep an eye on Agamemnon’s men.” I warned.

“I’ll have my bow ready.” Paris promised, backing off from my shoulder. Relief bloomed in my chest. As much of a sex addict my brother was, though I was quickly understanding his point on  _that_  front, he was unmatched in both speed and accuracy with a bow. His days on the battlefield, or more frequently, on the battlements, earned him a great number of kills and a large amount of respect for his talent. He was quite good at hand-to-hand combat as well, though he preferred his bow.

“He will try to keep you at a distance.” Odysseus remarked as I walked past him. “Close combat is your friend here. He is not particularly fast.” I nodded in thanks and continued walking forward, watching Agamemnon as he approached me slowly.

“Who is your second, Hector?” Agamemnon asked. I couldn’t help it. The stress of the day combined with the death of my father made me slap-happy. I burst out laughing.

“A second?” I replied. “Why would  _I_  need a second against  _you_?” Okay, so insulting the man perhaps wasn’t my wisest idea, but I knew he didn’t have the same control that I did over my emotions. “Besides, this is to the death for the war. Whoever wins won’t have to deal with the second. Assuming, of course, you will keep your word.”

“My word is true.” Agamemnon replied, face twitching in surprise at my lack of respect. I laughed at him again, making his face purple in anger. I waited for him to attack me. It took him longer than I thought it would, but it made the appropriate block no less easy. It took me a little time to find his pattern, but once I did, the whole fight was over rather quickly. I slipped in the reach of his sword and struck out with a dagger, catching his throat and spraying blood across my face. I lashed out with the other dagger and cut through the rest of his neck, making his head fall to the ground.

When the hot blood splashed across my skin and Agamemnon’s form fell to the ground, I looked at the Greek king’s posse, instantly recognizing the archer aiming at me. An arrow whistled past me and embedded itself in the man’s throat. The arrow he had been about to fire shot from the bow and I had to dive to the ground to avoid getting hit. I rose to my feet, still eyeing the Greek side warily.

“Attempt to shoot the victor again and you’ll die, too.” Paris called. I smirked. It was hard to argue with the best archer in the war when had a bow in his hand. I turned to the Trojan side, hoping that my brief exile hadn’t poisoned their view of me.

“Hector!” The regiment directly before me started chanting, quickly drawing the rest of the army into their shouting. I heard an echo behind me and turned, confused. I almost dropped my jaw in shock when the Myrmidons led the Greek armies in joining the chant. Odysseus’ men took up the shout and the sheer amount of respect they all felt for me as a fellow warrior made my chest fill with pride and gratitude. I spotted Achilles, still holding onto Astyanax dutifully as they both chanted with the rest of the armies. Achilles smirked as he caught my eye. The chanting reverberated in my ribs, drawing a grin to my face. I held the bloody knives up, pulling every man’s voice into a raucous shout of victory.

_“Hector!”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Achilles lives in Troy with Hector and the two finally get some time to relax.

“I’m sleepy, Daddy.” Astyanax mumbled, his head tucked underneath Achilles’ chin.

“I know, son.” I didn’t bother to take my son from the Greek warrior as we walked through the halls of the Trojan palace. Shifting the boy around would just keep him from falling asleep. Menelaus upheld Agamemnon’s deal and withdrew his men back to the beach. After my victory, I had been enveloped by the Trojan leaders and begged to take the throne in my father’s stead. A ridiculous amount of political nonsense later, I had been whisked back to the palace to talk before the assembly and inform them of everything. I brought Odysseus with me so he could fill in all the gaps and Paris also spoke for the truth of our words. Achilles followed me, still carrying Astyanax around. No one said a word about the Greek warrior or his second, who also accompanied us through the halls.

“What are your orders, my king?” Sarpedon asked.

“I’m not king, yet.” I sighed. “But pass the word around that we will begin the peace talks after the coronation. The coronation will be in two days. Get Helen and my mother on arranging everything. All I want to have to do is show up. Tell everyone to relax tomorrow and embrace the restful peace.”

“Yes, my king.” Sarpedon smiled as I shot him a dirty look.

“I will inform the Greeks.” Odysseus offered.

“Thank you.” I replied. “Also, Sarpedon, if you would be so kind as to ensure room and board for Eudorus, I would be most grateful. Both he and Achilles are guests in our palace. Make certain no foolish guard or civilian attacks them.”

“Of course, my king.” Sarpedon bowed and led Eudorus and Odysseus away.

“I’m not king yet!” I called after my frustrating second. Weariness hit my bones as they disappeared out of sight. Almost unconsciously, I led Achilles, still holding the slumbering Astyanax, to my father’s rooms, rather than my rooms. Firstly, I didn’t want to see if they had cleaned the blood from the floor, and secondly, I didn’t want to put Astyanax through that. It was a different period of my life, and his life, so we needed to start fresh in the King’s suite. I opened the door and Achilles grinned at the extravagance that my father had indulged in.

“This doesn’t look like your style, Hector.” He pointed out, kicking the door shut.

“Because it’s not.” I replied.

“Where is the queen?” He asked.

“Mother has lived in a different suite for years. She didn’t much care for Father’s promiscuity. Or his concubines.” I explained, watching as Achilles deposited my sleeping son on the large bed, where the boy cuddled up with a pillow. I went to the water basin and grabbed a cloth to clean the dried blood from my skin. “Plus, all those who lived in this suite with my father were moved out when word of his death reached the palace. While we were playing politics in the assembly, the house staff were cleaning the room for me.” I finished cleaning myself and turned around to look at the Greek.

“Ah.” Achilles leaned against one of the posts of the four-poster bed and tilted his head. “I assume you’ve kidnapped me to your personal rooms for a reason?”

“Get in my bed.” I ordered, my voice a growl with how exhausted I was. It hadn’t even occurred to me to arrange for other rooms for Achilles, but I couldn’t imagine have him anywhere else but with me. The Greek chuckled, but obeyed me, dropping onto the bed with a sigh of contentment. I flopped down between my son and my lover, also sighing as the comfortable bed absorbed my tension. Achilles grabbed me and huddled me close to him, both to my surprise and my appreciation. We lay there for a long time before my paranoia got the better of me and I hugged Astyanax, cradling him between Achilles’ body and mine. Achilles chuckled as if he could read my mind, but willingly cuddled close to my son, adding a greater shield between him and the world. Affection blossomed in my chest when I saw how willing the Greek was to care for my son and, though I had long stopped fighting my feelings, it still came as a shock.

“Go to sleep, Trojan.” Achilles cracked an eye open to find me staring at him. He let both steel blue eyes open and my stomach clenched at the fondly annoyed expression.

“Thank you, Achilles.” I murmured. A smile grace his face and I was certain I understood why Paris and Menelaus decided to start a war for Helen. I smiled back and Achilles pulled me as close as he could with the five-year-old still between us and kissed me gently.

“Always, Hector.” He touched our foreheads together. “Now, go to sleep.”

“So–” He silenced me with another kiss.

“Anything else can be discussed tomorrow.”

“Good night, Greek.” I mumbled, shutting my eyes.

The next morning, Sarpedon brought me several guards and a maid to look after my son. Astyanax was extraordinarily excited to teach his four new babysitters how to play the games he had always played with Andromache. I sent them into the room that neighbored the King’s bedchamber that was supposed to be for the royal children, but had long since been out of use. I was going to have to arrange for all of Astyanax’s toys to be brought from my original chambers to his new room in the King’s suite. There was only one door to that room, so the guards would only have one door to focus on should anything crazy happened.

As soon as they shut the door behind them, Achilles pounced.

“Just couldn’t wait, could you?” I muttered, feeling my body relax as his hands roamed my body and his lips found my neck.

“Nope.” Somehow we made it to the bed and Achilles took his sweet time pleasuring me. All day long, we stayed inside the King’s suite, either having sex against various pieces of furniture, or entertaining Astyanax when he became too much for his maid or guards to handle. The five-year-old had energy; that much was certain. So did Achilles, albeit in a much different outlet.

The next morning, the morning of the coronation, started much the same way. Astyanax was taken into his room with his babysitters to change and play for a while and Achilles attacked me from behind.

“We have to be politicians today.” I muttered, trying to maintain some form of control.

“I am.” Achilles replied, his fingers gripping my hips. “Isn’t this what they do all the time?”

“What would ‘this’ be?” I asked.

“Relieving tension.” Achilles nibbled on my ear, drawing a shudder up my spine. I turned around and shoved Achilles onto the bed. He started laughing, but immediately stopped to groan loudly when my lips found his erection. His fingers buried into my dark curls as I sucked hard, trying to dominate his pleasure. My hands forced his hips down, keeping him from thrusting painfully into my throat. I stopped as abruptly as I had started, making my lover swear loudly. I hovered over him, my hands pinning his wrists down to keep his still.

“I should just leave you like this.” My voice came out a controlled growl. “Leave you hard and wanting and making you suffer through the ceremony and meetings like this.” Achilles groaned and swore again, trying to shift my weight from him so he could move. “Or would you rather I fuck you so hard you can’t sit down, making you suffer through the ceremony and meetings in pain?”

“Hector…” Any protest died on his lips as the dirty talk consumed his lust-addled mind.

“Maybe I should just leave something inside you for the duration of the meeting.” I continued, ignoring his moaning. My tongue flicked out and traced the shell of his ear, making him shiver. “I’d like that.” I growled into his ear. “To watch you shift uncomfortably, face bright red, for the entire day, knowing that you would only be thinking about me burying my cock deep within your heat, making you squirm and scream for more.”

“Hector!” Achilles arched up against my body, growling like a lion and desperately trying to get me to actually do what I had been promising. “Fuck me or I’ll fuck you!”

“So needy.” I bit down on his neck, a sharp punishment for trying to take control. He had been in charge for the past two days and nights. It was my turn. And I wasn’t having his tiny rebellion. I wanted to watch the Greek come apart beneath me. I wanted him to lose himself in the pleasure I granted him. “You’re trying to order a king around, Achilles.” I abruptly switched to Greek, making Achilles shudder and growl loudly at the way my accent curled around his name. “Someone should put you in your place.”

“Hector…” Achilles surged forward, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. I pulled him up and flipped him over, growling in his ear.

“Hands and knees, Achilles. Now.” The Greek obeyed, shuddering at the dominance in my accented order. I wrapped one hand over Achilles’ mouth, muffling his swearing, and thrust into him, brutally slamming into his heat over and over. Achilles growled and shoved back against me, trying to get more, more, more. My hands slipped down to his shoulders, using the leverage to fuck him harder.

“More.” Achilles groaned, voice husky and dark with desire. I took the demand to heart, thrusting with enough force to make his arm buckle with pleasure. He let out a long hiss as his face his the bed, happily accepting the brutal pleasure I was granting him. He shifted, trying to regain a stable balance on his hands, but froze mid-move, gasping desperately for air. His body shook as I slammed into that spot over and over again. With a mumbled curse, Achilles’ form trembled violently as he struggled to maintain the awkward position. I grabbed his waist, pulling his back up to meet my chest. His head turned and our lips met, my breath huffing desperately against his moans as we both struggled to our releases. My hips stuttered their rhythm as pleasure took my mind. My hand found his erection and stroked it as hard and frantic as my thrusting.

“Fuck, Achilles.” My breathless curse in his ear made the Greek stiffen with a groan. His hips twitched violently as his seed splattered across my hands and his chest. The stifling heat clamped down almost painfully and I lost my mind, biting down on Achilles’ neck impulsively. Neither of us moved for a long time, our muscles trembling as we struggled to stay upright. For a reason I couldn’t fathom, a bubble of laughter burst from my lips. Achilles joined in with my laughing fit, finding the same inconceivable amusement I did. Finally, we separated our bodies and tried to regain our breath, despite the laughter. He turned around and we kissed each other, sated for the time being.

“Good morning.” He chuckled. I laughed again.

“Is your tension relieved?” I grinned. Achilles kissed me again.

“Obviously. I feel like a proper politician now.” He smirked for a second before a pout covered his lips. “I still don’t want to deal with the stupid people.”

“Too damn bad.” I kissed him again before heading for the basin to clean up.

“What if I refused to get dressed?” Achilles asked, joining me to remove the evidence of our coupling from his skin.

“Then you’ll meet with all the Greek and Trojan leaders naked.” I replied. Achilles grinned and kissed my shoulder before turning away to get dressed.

“Your bed’s a mess.” Achilles pointed out, picking up his wrinkled and sweat-stained chiton. Two days of sweat, sex, and violence had made the cloth less-than-desirable to wear, particularly for a coronation.

“No thanks to you.” I turned around, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed as I eyed the cloth in the Greek’s hand critically. “I have more than enough clothes for you so you could avoid wearing that.”

“Wouldn’t that essentially be claiming me as your lover?” Achilles asked archly.

“Didn’t I wear your clothes the other day?” I retorted, my ears burning as the implication hit me in full. I had spoken without thinking and now I was paying the price in full.

“That’s not the same thing and you know it, Hector.” He was right, damn him. At the time, I was an exile and the clothes Achilles had given me were white with no Greek affiliation anywhere on them. There was no way anyone would have been able to say whose clothes they were to begin with, Greek or otherwise. If Achilles wore my clothes, from the King of Troy’s wardrobe… I would be claiming him as my lover and then flaunt it literally in front of the entirety of the Trojan nobles as well as the Greek leaders.

“It wouldn’t make a difference.” I pointed out, trying to recover from my embarrassment. “You’re going back to Phthia after the peace talks anyway.”

“Am I?”

I blinked at the simply words, my mind screeching to a halt. I stared at him, silence prevailing our conversation for a long moment.

“You’re not?” I asked slowly, finally.

“Why would I?” Achilles replied just as slowly.

“It’s your home. It’s your throne. All your men have families and homes there. You couldn’t uproot all of them and you couldn’t live without them. The Myrmidons are everything to you.” I answered.

“Home is where the heart lies and as for the throne…” He sighed. “Well, I never wanted it anyway. I always preferred the life of a warrior as opposed to one of royalty. Anyway, the Myrmidons have more respect for the Trojan warriors than they do for the other Greeks, with the exception of Odysseus and his men. Your men are worthy adversaries. My homeland has become crowded in years past and filled with an easy peace. That is no place for a warrior to stay.”

“You would relocate all your men here?” My heart stopped. For me? He would alter everything in his life for me?

“All who wished to.” Achilles agreed.

“Why?”

“I believe your son could explain that easily enough.” To my surprise, a light flush burned on his cheeks for a moment. He stepped forward into my space, crowding me against the wall. His arms came up, trapping me in one spot, but he remained at arm’s length, staring at me. I could feel his gaze like a steady presence in the room. I met his eyes and my heart stuttered. I felt small and vulnerable for reasons I couldn’t name, and I didn’t like it at all. “Do you want me to?”

“What?”

“Hector.” Those blue eyes held mine still. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

We stood, a breath apart, in silence for a long moment.

“I love you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hector becomes King of Troy, Achilles and Hector come out, and Helen has a request for Hector.

Those were  _not_  the words that were supposed to come out of my mouth. A dark crimson blush spread from my ears to my face and down my chest. I couldn’t look away from Achilles as my embarrassment stole every ounce of self-discipline I had. My heart thudded loudly and nervously in my chest and panic filled me. The words were out. I couldn’t take them back, couldn’t refute them, couldn’t wish them away, couldn’t do  _anything_ but wait for Achilles to respond. When my mind stopped reveling in the panic, I finally spotted the wonder and awe in his eyes as he saw the honesty in my words, despite their unwilling appearance. A smug smirk slipped over his face and he kissed me deeply, his hands burying into my hair while my hands mimicked the movement in his golden locks.

“I’m going to stay.” Achilles replied breathlessly as he pulled back a mere inch. He kissed me again and again, grinning in the same dorky manner I was. And I knew. I knew that he was going to stay were his heart was: with me. The three simple words that I did  _not_  mean to say at all, that could be so easy to say to a brother or mother or son were incredibly impossible to say to a lover. Achilles wouldn’t be breaking that wall any time soon. And it didn’t bother me. I knew how he felt without him saying the words. He was right: Astyanax had explained his feelings fully enough.

“Then you should be putting on my clothes.” I pointed out. Achilles burst out laughing, drawing me into his mirth. Whatever it was we had was too fucked up and absurdly ridiculous to take seriously. And yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. We were equals in our partnership in a way I had never experienced before. There was always a dominant and a submissive. I was submissive to my father. I was dominant to my wife. I was dominant to my siblings. I was submissive to the gods. There was always a status difference. Always. And yet… And yet. Those two words described all the impossible reasons for Achilles and me.

When Sarpedon knocked and entered to escort us to the coronation, his mouth froze half-open as he took in our matching appearances. We were dressed as kings were expected to dress, me in the colors of Troy and him in the colors of Phthia, but the clothes obviously came from the same wardrobe of Trojan style. I didn’t even know that my father  _had_  anything in Phthia’s colors, but it worked out fantastically. Achilles, much to my annoyance, had forced me to sit still while he attempted to tame my unruly mane. His hair was easily fixed in the Phthian style with the gold circlet almost blending into his hair. Mine was much less cooperative, but somehow my lover managed to get the curls to behave enough to fit into the Trojan style.

“All right, I should have seen this coming, my king.” Sarpedon blinked.

“Do you think people will mind?” I grinned.

“More than somewhat.” My second chuckled. “You’ll catch hell for this, my king.”

“I have a son.” I waved the concern away. “They can’t complain too loudly.”

“Speaking of,” Sarpedon smiled, “Where is he? I am to accompany all three of you to the ceremony.”

“Daddy!” Astyanas ran up to me and hugged my leg, his wide eyes taking in how he matched with both Achilles and I. “I toldja so!” He pointed at our clothes, giggling happily. “I toldja he loves you, too!”

“Yes, you did, Astyanax.” Achilles chuckled at the blush on my face.

“If you’re in love with Daddy, does that make you my Papa?” I laughed at how quickly the mirth in Achilles’ face died.

“Only if you want him to be.” I answered, saving Achilles from the five-year-old.

“Yeah!” Astyanax hugged Achilles’ leg happily. “I like him, Daddy!”

“Me, too.” I picked up the little boy and nodded at Sarpedon. “Lead me to my doom, sir.”

“Just your coronation, my king.” My second replied with a chuckle, obediently leading us from the room and down the halls. “Nothing quite so dramatic.”

“Wait until you see what Helen and Mother whipped up.” I muttered.

“Princess  _Helen_  was involved?” Sarpedon gasped melodramatically. “Well, my king, I apologize in advance for leading you to the unfortunate end of death via flowers.”

“Ah, there you are, Achilles.” Odysseus appeared before us, startling poor Sarpedon and Astyanax. Achilles and I had been around the king enough to have gotten used to his sudden appearances and disappearances. The Greek king didn’t even blink at the matching outfits my son, my lover, and I wore.

“King Odysseus.” I mock-bowed. Odysseus snorted, waving the formality away.

“I’m here to lead Achilles, pardon me, Prince Achilles of Phthia to the seats set aside for the hostages, I mean, foreign dignitaries.” He grinned. “It happens to be surrounded by Trojan guards, but it’s rather nice. On the bright side, you two were intelligent enough to avoid putting him in Trojan colors, though no one will miss the style, especially when they see you and Astyanax.”

“Do you think people will mind?” Achilles grinned, echoing my earlier words.

“More than somewhat.” Odysseus’ smirk told us that he was aware he was mimicking Sarpedon’s earlier response to me. “But I sincerely doubt any will complain since you just single-handedly won the war by killing the opposing king in defense of your murdered predecessor. Astyanax is also a rather compelling reason for them to shut it. That being said, people will faint from shock and your assembly will probably want an explanation, preferably a private one, so they can figure out the best way to ‘fix this’ and minimize the backlash.”

“Ah.” Mischief filled my mind and I blamed Odysseus’ influence. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Be careful with how you approach it, my king.” Sarpedon warned, not liking the look on my face. “You don’t want anyone to accuse you as a traitor.”

“Don’t worry, Sarpedon.” I grinned, a plan coming into my mind. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Then Achilles and I shoulder be off. He’ll cause a stir, but not as much as when you and Astyanax walk in.” Odysseus said. Achilles shot me a smug smirk as he left, like he knew what I was planning. Which he might.

“Are you ready, my king? My prince?” Sarpedon asked, looking between my son and I. I looked at the small boy by my side.

“Are  _you_  ready, Astyanax?” I asked. My son nodded.

“Yesh! I wanna be a prince!” He crowed happily. I laughed, not bothering to remind him that he  _was already_  a prince. I followed Sarpedon, reminding Astyanax of all the duties he had for the ceremony and the rules he was to obey. The poor five-year-old would have to sit still for a long time. Sarpedon left me at the door to the hall and took Astyanax into the crowded entrance hall.

True to Odysseus’ predictions, when I entered many people immediately saw the similarity between Achilles and I. Several people fainted in shock, but mostly, people gaped silently. I ignored them and kept walking until I reached my myriad of siblings in front of the throne. The ceremony itself passed in a blur and suddenly I was sitting on the throne, wearing my father’s crown, with Astyanax beside me and his crown securely in place. People cheered loudly, having forgotten Achilles’ dress throughout the ceremony. I focused on my lover and the smug smirk on his face and I just  _knew_  that he was thinking about how he had been fucked by a king barley two hours before. I bit the smirk and chuckle back and got to my feet, silencing the crowd.

“As my first official act,” I called, “I wish to call forth the heroes of the war, honoring the valuable warriors  _from both sides_.” People muttered to themselves in confusion, but I didn’t give them the chance to think about it. I recited name after name of all the warriors I had seen in battle, all the warriors that had become well-respected on both sides, including Achilles, though I didn’t grant him anything more than I had granted anyone else. The group gathered before me and I bestowed upon them all the honorifics they deserved. People cheered for their favorite heroes, giving up on complaining about my equal treatment for all the warriors. I pulled out individuals, like Odysseus and Sarpedon, and granted them specific honors. Finally, I called forward Achilles and Astyanax couldn’t sit still any longer.

“Papa!” He ran forward and hugged Achilles’ leg, happily getting away from the boring silence of his throne. He had been doing so well. I was proud of how long he lasted before cracking. Neither Achilles nor I could help the smiles on our faces. Achilles picked the boy up and kept approaching the throne, walking past the row of warriors to stand at my shoulder. I looked at the crowd of shocked faces, biting back my laughter at their expressions.

“Prince Achilles of Phthia is my lover.” I announced. “Anyone who wishes to brand either of us as traitors will have to challenge us in open combat, else their words will not be heard. Anyone who has a problem with it may challenge us now.” I let the room sit in silence for several long minutes, waiting for someone to speak up or complain. Odysseus looked more amused than anything else. Not a word was spoken. Everyone in the room could see the political advantage of our union and none of them needed to know the personal reasons for it. Astyanax was mumbling to Achilles behind me and my lover was snickering at whatever the five-year-old was saying.

“For all the Trojans wondering at Achilles’ loyalty, just recall: he saved the Crown Prince on the battlefield without a second thought. I trust him with the future king of Troy, just as I trust him in my bed. Speak  _now_  against this if you wish, because I will not hear any complaints beyond today. Trust me as your king to not be rash in my decisions.” I ignored the fact that our entire relationship had started on several rash decisions. No one else needed to know that. Once again, I gave the crowd a good amount of time to decide on their approval. The silence spoke volumes of the trust my people placed in me.

“I don’t think your assembly will be very happy.” Achilles grinned at me as soon as we were out of sight of the public and walking through the halls to the assembly room. “But it was hilarious.”

“ _Our_  assembly.” I corrected. “If you’re going to stay here as my lover, you have to deal with them, too.” Achilles groaned loudly.

“Can’t we just kill the annoying ones?” He whined. The guards near us stiffened, but my laughter made them look confused.

“I wish.” I replied. “But no.”

“Fine.” The guards relaxed as Achilles agreed to not kill the assembly. “Wait! Someone has to care for Astyanax!”

“We have maids.” I pointed out. “Stop being a coward. Is the great leader of the Myrmidons  _afraid_  of a group of old men?” Achilles glowered at me.

“Shut up.”

“As you wish, Achilles.” I switched to Greek to watch him squirm. His whole body stiffened and Astyanax just stared between us, having no clue what made the Greek warrior flush.

“You’re playing with fire, Hector.” Achilles growled. I smiled sweetly and we stopped by our rooms, where Odysseus and Eudorus waited for us.

“Well, that was pretty blunt.” Odysseus grinned in amusement. “Your assembly is going to be  _pissed_.”

“It’s a good thing you warned the Myrmidons.” Eudorus. I glanced at Achilles, whose gaze narrowed.

“Warned?” He asked. Eudorus shrugged.

“Tent walls are thin, sir.” Achilles snickered and I turned bright red. “That being said, Troy is a nice place to live and perhaps raise a family.”

“This is why you’re my second.” Achilles clapped the man on the shoulder, laughing.

“And I think most of the men would agree with me.” Eudorus added.

“Papa, are you staying with us forever?” Astyanax asked.

“Well, I’m going to have to go to Phthia to take care of some business.” Achilles told the child in his arms. “But I’ll stay here as long as your father wants.” I mentally swore. Damn that man for placing the question squarely on me.

“Daddy,” My son glowered at me sternly, “Papa gets to stay with us forever, right?”

“Of course, my prince.” I bowed to my son to hide my laughter. Eudorus and Odysseus had no such reservations.

“See, Papa?” Astyanax ignored the laughing warriors to point at me and stare at my lover. “I toldja he loves you! He’s not gonna kick you out.”

“You are brilliant, Astyanax.” Achilles nodded sagely. “Hector, we should bring him to the meeting. He’ll persuade all the assembly members for us.” Astyanax turned bright red and shook his head quickly.

“I do believe you are correct.” Odysseus nodded. Astyanax shook his head violently, too shy to even  _think_  about speaking in front of all the old men.

“He could be very effective.” Eudorus added.

“No!” Astyanax hid his face in Achilles’ chest.

“Well, let’s not use him against the assembly.” I mussed Astyanax’s hair gently, to calm him down. “It would be too much for them to handle. He’s too brilliant.”

“True.” Achilles rubbed Astyanax’s back, keeping him calm. “He should play games with his babysitters so they don’t feel so lonely.”

“Yeah!” My son’s brief panic ended as he excitedly wriggled from Achilles’ grasp. He started babbling happily clinging to my hand as we waited for his maid and bodyguards. Once Astyanax had been safely passed off to his babysitters, I let Achilles, Odysseus, and Eudorus to the assembly chamber, where all the Greek and Trojan leaders were congregating, ready to compromise for peace. Well, I wasn’t sure if they were ready to  _compromise_ , but they’d get used to is to appease Achilles and me. And they  _wanted_  to appease Achilles and me.

The only problem was Helen. I couldn’t destroy Menelaus’ honor by killing his elder brother, stealing his greatest army,  _and_  allowing Paris to keep Helen. I had an idea how to solve that problem, but Paris would be furious about it. I had Helen meet us at the assembly doors to get her opinion first. I sent Odysseus and Eudorus inside while Achilles and I lingered to speak with the woman. She, rightly, looked petrified. I led her away from the entrance and any potential eavesdroppers, and decided that being abrupt would be the quickest way to get everything solved.

“Helen, you know we will be discussing your fate momentarily, so I have two questions for you. First, do you want to stay in Troy or would you rather go back to Sparta? Second, do you want to speak your mind before the assembly or would you rather I keep your opinion anonymous?” I asked, softly. Helen looked surprised.

“My king…” She curtsied and I held up a hand, annoyed.

“Helen, don’t.” I interrupted. “Tell me bluntly and without reservation. Do you want to live in Troy, Sparta, or neither? Do you want Paris, Menelaus, or neither?”

“Neither?” She blinked at me, surprised that I would give her that option.

“Yes.” I glanced at Achilles, who was stone-faced. “If you want to stay in Troy, but not with Paris, I can make that happen. If you want to go back to Sparta, but not with Menelaus, I can ensure that you are left alone. You need only say what you want.”

“I love Troy.” Helen spoke slowly and softly. “But I cannot stay with Paris. It would insult Menelaus too highly and, frankly, I would rather be left alone after all of this. I’d rather  _not_  be married off, again.”

“Then I will have you become Cassandra’s companion.” I offered, speaking my idea slowly. “You will take a vow of chastity, devoting yourself to the Temple of Apollo alongside my sister. No man will touch you. Paris will not have you. Menelaus will not have you. You will be able to stay here in Troy; however, you must stay with Cassandra.” I knew that it wasn’t the most optimal idea for Helen. Cassandra was, by and large, considered insane, but I always knew her as sweet and gentle, but misguided. She had the gift of prophecy, but no one believed her. Even  _knowing_  that she was right, when she spoke a prophecy, it just seemed so absurd, even though logic said she was right. The gods were capricious that way.

That being said, many didn’t want to spend any time with her, because they thought her insane. However, when I finished speaking, Helen’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged me tightly, sobbing into my shoulder. I held her gently, very confused. I shared a lost look with Achilles before Helen pulled back, smiling.

“Thank you, Hector.” She looked beautiful even through her tears. “If you can convince them to allow me that, I am forever in your debt. If you can convince them, you are blessed by the gods.”

“Would you like to remain anonymous?” I asked. She nodded, sniffling.

“Paris and I have become friends, in addition to lovers.” She said. “I’d like to maintain the friendship.” I nodded.

“Fine. None shall know that it was not my decision.”

“But it  _was_  your decision.” Achilles said, smirking. Helen’s smile lit up the hallway and she hugged Achilles, too, making him stare at me in confusion.

“Go, Helen.” I said. “I’m sure Pairs will find you as soon as a decision is made.” Smiling and crying happily, Helen hurried away from the assembly room. I turned to Achilles with an eye roll. He snickered, but looked just as annoyed.

“That was fairly dramatic.” Achilles said.

“As always.” I shrugged. “Hence the overabundance of flowers at the coronation.”

“How shall we enter?” My lover asked.

“Together and impatient.” I replied instantly. “I’m going to be High General Hector, not King Hector. It’ll make everyone more succinct and less obnoxious if they think I’m going to stab them for being wordy. Also, I’m going to kill myself if I have to keep wearing this flowery nonsense.” I pulled my knife out and hacked off the long, draped robe until it resembled a warrior’s chiton, granting me more freedom of movement. I would be able to fight, if need be.

“I’m not going to lie,” Achilles grinned, “You look like a warrior now.” Which was the highest compliment he could give me. The heat in his gaze gave the compliment more intimate implications.

“Fix yours.” I handed him the knife. He hacked off the extra cloth in the same manner I had until we matched in our ragged finery. “I’m going to need to get all the king’s wardrobe altered. I’m a warrior and I need to be able to move regardless of how fancy I am supposed to appear.”

“You need not explain it to  _me_ , Hector.” Achilles pulled me close to slip my knife into its sheath while he kissed me. My hand grabbed the back of his neck, preventing his chaste kiss from remaining thus for long. When we pulled apart, his eyes were almost black with lust.

“We will finish this later.” I promised. “Before we enter, we should discuss what  _you_  want from this compromise. Do you want a position in the Trojan army, or would you rather the Myrmidons remain independent?”

“I gave up my independence when I bound myself to you.” Achilles replied, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but you, even as my lover, are not bound to take part in Troy’s wars if you don’t wish to.” I pointed out.

“You know I won’t be happy sitting out of a war.” Achilles replied with a grin. “Especially if it means I get to see you fight.”

“Regardless,” I laughed, “Do you want the Myrmidons to remain independent or become a part of the Trojan army?”

“Definitely independent.” Achilles said. “Maybe we could combine them later, when the war isn’t so recent in everyone’s mind. For me, I’d rather prove myself to your armies than have you order everyone to respect me.”

“I don’t need to order  _anyone_  to respect you. They respect you anyway.” I replied. “Let’s just ignore us and  _this_  until someone  _else_  brings it up. It’s not anything that needs to be dealt with at this time.”

“Shall we just go with the obvious?” Achilles suggested. “We’re lovers, we’re together, and there’s nothing anyone can say or do to alter that.”

“Yes.” I agreed. “They less they know about us, the better.”

“Okay.” Achilles kissed me again. “Let’s go deal with bullshit.”

“If you behave,” I offered, “I’ll let you decide the next position.” Immediately, Achilles leered at me, lecherously. I smirked and nodded at the door. “ _Behave._ ”

“Yes, my king.” He murmured. Well,  _he_  was feeling particularly kinky at the moment and it  _might_  have been affecting me, too. It was a shame that we couldn’t take a break to take care of our arousals. Together, we walked into the crowded chaos of the assembly room. Silenced pervaded the room as we entered with Greek and Trojan eyes staring at us in anger and confusion. I led Achilles to the pair of chairs at the head of the room. Eudorus and Sarpedon waited for us next to the chairs, nodding respectfully as we sat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hector deals with the political ramifications of ending a war and Paris throws a temper tantrum.

“Welcome.” I said with an air of impatience, surveying the room and adopting my general persona, rather than the king one. Being a king would do no good here. Odysseus looked amused by our demolished robes. “We’ve gathered to discuss the terms of peace between Greece and Troy. As the victor, Troy will speak first. Memnon, begin.”

“My king, what of your relationship with Achilles?” One Trojan spoke up.

“I was under the impression that there was no dissent regarding that particular topic, considering how no one spoke up earlier against it.” I said, dryly with obvious annoyance. “But, since you seem so adamant about it, challenge either Achilles or me and we will talk about it if you beat us.”

The man’s mouth snapped shut.

“No?” I blinked, feigning surprise. “Let me recap for you: Achilles is my lover. If you wish to discuss it, you must challenge either Achilles or me before we will speak of it. Now, Memnon, your requests for peace. Begin.” Each Trojan leader stood and spoke, one at a time, naming more and more absurd demands from Greece before they stopped. Paris asked to keep Helen, obviously.

“Odysseus, please name your requests. I ask that the Greek leaders make  _no_  commentary on the Trojan demands.” I said when the Trojan leaders stopped. “Begin.” Odysseus started speaking, being the only reasonable and intelligent leader in his requests. Menelaus asked for Helen back, of course, but the Greeks got as absurd with their requests as the Trojans before they stopped. It took me three hours before I managed to talk both sides down from their more unreasonable requests and list out all the terms of the compromise. Both sides finally agreed upon what we had listed out, making me relax for the first time since we had started. My impatient demeanor had easily prevented everyone from being superfluous with their requests as well as their word choice.

“What of Helen, my king?” Paris asked, worry in his eyes. She had been ignored up to this point, simply to get the important details out of the way, first.

“Helen will be given to the victors, as she was the reason for the war in the first place.” I said, making Menelaus cry out in outrage and Paris grin in triumph. I held my hand up to silence them and Paris’ face fell when he saw the seriousness on my face. “That being said, Helen will be given to the Temple of Apollo as a tribute to the gods as thanks for the Trojan victory. She will serve with my sister, Cassandra, as a constant companion and live the remainder of her days under an oath of chastity.” Instantly, Paris cried out in outrage and Menelaus smirked in triumph. Menelaus didn’t really care about Helen, he just didn’t want any other man to have her. If the gods had her, he couldn’t complain.

“Brother!” Paris snapped. “What are you  _doing_?”

“This is my decision.” I ignored my brother, know he was going to be furious regardless. “What do Greece and Troy say?” All the Greeks nodded in agreement. All the Trojans, except for Pairs, nodded as well. “It is decided.”

Thus, the Trojan War was officially over.

“Paris, stay a moment after our guests depart.” I ordered. “Everyone else, return to your people, spread the word of peace, and rejoice, for we are finally free of the war that has plagued both our peoples for a decade.” I waited for the crowd of men to start clearing from the room before looking at my lover. Achilles nodded at me, understanding my silent question.

“I will go see Astayanax for a time.” He murmured next to me. “And then I must return to my men to make plans with them. I should be back before nightfall tomorrow. If something comes up, I will have a message sent so you know.” I nodded and touched his shoulder in acknowledgement as he stepped past me. He turned and touched my forearm in response, allowing me a small smile before leaving the room with the rest of the Greek and Trojan leaders. I sent Sarpedon away, too, so that when the assembly doors banged shut, only Paris and I stood in the room. I had to keep my brother from doing something drastic without letting him know it was Helen’s decision.

I’d rather sit through the entirety of the peace talks again.

“Paris.” I took the crown off my head and left it in the chair before stepping down to the open floor. With the crown off, Paris knew that this was a brotherly talk, not a king-to-prince talk. So, he glowered at me, stubbornly not moving from his chair. “If you don’t come here, I’ll drag you like the spoiled brat you are.” I had to insult him to get him to respond. If I got him angry enough, he’d try to take it out on me and I could wear him down until he was too exhausted to do anything stupid.

“ _Me?_  Spoiled?” Paris’ voice cracked in outrage. “What about  _you_ , Hector? You and your Greek whore–” The word was barely out of his mouth when my knife slammed into the chair next to him. He froze, mouth open in shock. We both knew that I was too good to have hit him at such close proximity, but it was the threat that made him pause.

“Do  _not_  insult one who could kill you without a second thought.” I advised calmly.

“He wouldn’t.” Paris said uncertainly.

“No.” I agreed. “But he wouldn’t want to upset me.” I let that thought sink in for a moment. “Come, spar with me, brother. We’ll discuss everything in the same way we always have.”

“With blood and bruises.” Paris couldn’t help the wry grin, despite his anger towards me.

“Instead of words and courtesy.” I finished with an echoing grin on my face.

“Let’s go.” Paris stood up and paced around me on the floor, trying to find an opening where he knew there was none. I shut my eyes, listening only to the soft movements of his feet. He slammed into me from behind, as always, and I rolled forward with his momentum, dropping him to the ground. He swore.

“If you didn’t use the same moves  _every time_ ,” I taunted, standing over him, “You wouldn’t be so easy to beat.” Angrily, Paris kicked out his leg, hoping to surprise me. Unfortunately for him, that was his usual tactic to catch me off guard. Normally, he would be quite talented in a fight, but we had sparred too many times for me not to recognize his “go to” methods and act accordingly. When confronted with new counterattacks, Paris relied even more heavily on his “go to’s”, making him even easier to beat.

“ _Why?_ ” Paris yelled, trying to pin me. I flipped him over my shoulder and back to the ground.

“Because we have to placate Menelaus.” I replied calmly.

“ _We_  beat them!” Paris snapped.

“But we have to deal with them every day after this!” I retorted. Paris grappled me to the ground. “Our peace talks include a trade agreement now!”

“I love her!” Paris grunted as I got him in a headlock.

“She’s  _not_  dying!” I snapped. “Just because you can’t fuck her doesn’t mean you can’t still love her!” Paris threw himself on top of me, punching wildly. I caught his fists and wrestled him down. He was losing steam. Too much energy and emotion too early made him quick to tire.

“ _Why?!_ ” He roared as I pinned him. “Why do  _you_  get  _your_  lover and  _I_  can’t have  _mine_?”

“Because my lover didn’t start a decade-long war between two nations.” I answered.

“That wasn’t her fault!” Pairs growled, struggling against my hold.

“No, it was  _yours_!” I replied. Paris froze, mouth open in shock. I had told him my opinions before, but I assume he thought that I had stopped chastising him once the war was over. “I’m not mad at you, Paris, but you have to accept the consequences of your actions. Your decision to take Helen with you when you left Sparta led to a war. In order to successfully maintain the peace, you have to give up sleeping with Helen. Remember: she’s still  _staying_  in Troy!”

“It’s not  _fair_!” Paris pouted, resuming his struggle against me.

“No, it’s not. “I agreed. “Welcome to reality. On the bright side, you’ll be able to remember her forever in your child.”

“Child?!” Paris froze again.

“She didn’t tell me.” I admitted. “But I’ve seen Andromache when she was pregnant and Helen was acting similarly. As the child  _is_  yours, I have no qualms about letting him or her be raised with the other royal children in the palace. Obviously, Helen will be allowed to help care for the child as long as it does not interfere with her duties to the Temple of Apollo. The child will  _not_  be considered a bastard, considering he or she was conceived before Helen’s vow of chastity.”

“ _Really_?” Paris looked astounded and so hopeful, that it reminded me of the barely-a-man teenager he had been when he first returned to Troy with Helen in tow. He was so young and he couldn’t understand why I had been so angry at him. At least at the time.

“I’m the king, remember?” I got off my brother and dusted myself off. “I can do what I want and people have to listen to me.” I offered Paris a hand up and as soon as he was on his feet, he hugged me tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “About everything.”

“I know. Me, too.”

“Thank you, Hector.” He looked me in the eye. “I don’t think anyone tells you that nearly enough.”

“Go see Helen.” I ordered. “She won’t be given to the Temple of Apollo until tomorrow.” There was no reason why I couldn’t allow Paris one last goodbye with Helen. I watched his face light up and he practically sprinted from the room. Snatching up my crown, I went to go spend time with my son.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months from the conclusion of the Trojan War, Hector has to deal with his impatient son.

“When is Papa and Patty comin’ back?” Astyanax whined for the third time that day.

“Soon.” I promised, knowing that all I wanted to do was whine, too. Achilles had, true to form, returned in a timely fashion, but had to leave within a few days to Phthia. Patroclus had bonded with my son before the Myrmidons had left Troy, successfully earning him at least  _one_  person who thought he was perfect. Astyanax was good for Patroclus’ self-esteem as well as his patience. Patroclus had gotten significantly more patient in the few scant days he spent with my son.

Odysseus had made offerings to all the Olympians before he made a hasty exit from our shores, too. I wondered if I’d ever get to see the King of Ithaca again. We had become good friends in our time spent together. I prayed for him to receive good fortune from the gods, but a sense of foreboding always filled me when I did so. I hoped he survived whatever the gods had in store for him.

It had been two months since the Greek armies filled their ships and left the shores of Troy. Achilles hadn’t yet returned. It bothered me, being separated from him, far more than I wanted to admit. Astyanax had been asking about them daily. So had the assembly members, but that was more because they wanted to know how many Myrmidons we would be welcoming into the city. Astyanax just wanted his Papa and big brother back. Achilles had told me it would be at least three months, probably four, before he would return to Troy, so I wasn’t holding out hope.

When the horns blared a warning to the city, that a ship had been spotted on the horizon, I was more than a little surprised. Instantly, Astyanax was on his feet, chanting “papa” and demanding that we go to the beaches to welcome them home. I had to explain to the five-year-old that it would be hours before the ship was close enough to dock. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it probably wasn’t Achilles. When the horns blasted again a couple hours later, Sarpedon ran into the room.

“The Myrmidons have returned, my king.” He breathed. Immediately, I picked up my son and ran to the palace roof. Astyanax complained that we were going the wrong way, but I knew it would take more time before the boats would reach shore. Borrowing a spyglass form the sentry, Mynes, I focused on the score of ships approaching my city. At the head of the small contingent was a ship with a peace banner and the Phthian banner. I focused on the dock and managed to make out a golden head of hair.

Achilles.

“I wanna see!” Astyanax demanded. Obediently, I handed over the spyglass to the boy and Mynes was quick to pick him up to allow him to see over the wall. He had a great deal of fun spotting all the little ships on the horizon.

“Will you send an envoy, my king?” Sarpedon asked.

“Yes.” I said. “We need to send horses and wagons to help them haul their belongings into the city. Get the steward working on finding places for everyone to stay.”

“My king, will you be greeting our guests here or at the beaches?” Sarpedon asked. Mischief filled my mind and I bit back my grin. Odysseus had been a  _terrible_  influence on me.

“Here will be fine.” I said. “Astyanax, come. We must get ready for our guests.”

“Thank you.” Astyanax said politely to Mynes, handing the spyglass back as he was placed back on the ground. He glanced back towards the beaches. “When will Papa and Patty be here?” I looked to Mynes, who grinned.

“They have a good wind, my prince.” He said. “They should arrive at the beaches within the hour.”

“Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, my prince.” Mynes bowed to the boy. I clapped the sentry on the shoulder with a grin, happy that my people had always loved my son. I gave him a grateful nod and took Astyanax’s hand to lead him back to our rooms. Sarpedon followed us, eyeing me suspiciously.

“May I help you?” I asked, staring at my second, amused.

“You’re  _not_  going to the beach?” He asked. “Not even to greet your lover?”

“No.”

“Daddy!” Astyanax gasped in outrage.

“We’ll greet them here.” I ignored my son with a shrug. Sarpedon didn’t look convinced. I rolled my eyes, ignoring the whining boy at my side. “Go away.”

“Yes, my king.” Sarpedon bowed, but his tone told me that he’d be keeping an eye on me.

“And stop being so distrustful.” I ordered. “I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me.” Which was a bit of a lie, considering how I escaped my bodyguards daily.

“Of course, my king.” Sarpedon bit back a grain. I glowered at him.

“Go have sex with your husband or something.”

“That is the best order you have  _ever_  given me.” My second grinned and turned away from my suite.

“Don’t come get me until they reach the city!” I called after him. He grunted in acknowledgement and I took my teary-eyed son into our suite and shut the door.

“We’re not goin’ t’ th’ beach?” He was about to burst into tears.

“Yes, we are.” I said, going to the window and eyeing the rotation of the guards, counting how long I’d have to climb down the wall of the palace before a guard on the wall would spot me.

“What?” Astyanax blinked, his tears magically gone.

“We are going to sneak out of the palace and we’re going to meet Papa and Patty at the beach to surprise them.” I explained. I’d have a good three minutes before the next guard walked by. Plenty of time. I turned to my son and knelt to be at his level. “But, we have to be very quiet and make sure that no guards catch us. It’s a secret mission.”

Instantly, the five-year-old was babbling and jumping around in his excitement. I let him wear himself out. In order to scale down the wall of the palace, I’d have to tie him to my back. Dealing with a hyperactive five-year-old in  _that_  capacity was dangerous and suicidal. I was more than happy to wear him out before climbing down the wall with him attached to my back. As far as the climbing itself went, as a young boy and a rambunctious teenager, I had done more than my fair share of scaling the walls of the palace and Troy herself when I wasn’t being the Perfect Crown Prince for my father and the assembly. It wasn’t that I was  _actually_ perfect, but I never got caught the way my siblings did.

“Daddy, when are we leaving?” My son asked, evidently done with his tirade of happy squealing and jumping on the bed.

“Well, first, we have to change into common clothes.” I said. “Or we’ll get caught.” It was entirely unnecessary, but it helped with the charade with my son. He tugged me to his room so I could inspect a proper “sneaking” outfit. There was no doubt in my mind that we’d get recognized no matter  _what_  we were wearing, but the more nonchalant we were, the less likely we were to be  _stopped_ , which was the important part. Plus, with Astyanax as excited as he was, I could play it all off as a game in the city, making everyone leave us alone out of respect for a child’s game. Once Astyanax and I were clothed in plain, and admittedly a little dirty, chitons, I tore up a chiton to turn it into straps to tie Astyanax to my back. I checked the hallway carefully before joining Astyanax in his room.

“Okay, now we’re going to climb down the wall.” I said. My son looked appropriately excited and terrified. “Well,  _I’m_  going to climb down the wall.  _You_  are holding onto my back.”

“Like the monkeys?” Astyanax, happily referring to the exotic animals he had seen in the marketplace once.

“Yes, just like the monkeys.” My son scrambled onto my back joyfully. “Just in case, I’m going to tie you to me.” Carefully, I ensured that the boy was in no danger of falling from me. Once he was secure, I walked to the window and he stiffened nervously.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Are we safe?”

“Of course.” I promised, kissing his chubby fingers. “I won’t drop you. Just close your eyes and count to one hundred.” Obediently, the boy shut his eyes and started counting out loud. When the guard disappeared from my sight, I swung myself out of the window with practiced ease, making my way down the brick walls. Astyanax got to one hundred, with my help, before I reached the ground, but he became entranced by the sport of climbing, asking me question after question and trying to figure out if  _he_  could do it by himself. When my feet touched the ground, he begged me to climb again, but  _up_  this time.

“Don’t you want to see Papa and Patty?” I reminded him.

“Yes!” Astyanax crowed happily.

“Shh.” I hushed him, untying the cloths that held him tight to me. “The guards will hear.” Astyanax clapped a hand to his mouth with a gasp, eyes wide. I finally got him off my back and put him down. “How can we get to the beach?” I asked.

“Horses!” He mumbled through his fingers.

“Okay.” I said thoughtfully. “If we need to get horses, then we have to go to the…?”

“Stables!” Laughing, I took his hand and we navigated the streets and alleys of Troy “all sneaky-like” in the words of my son. Many people recognized us, but none stopped us, especially when they saw how Astyanax and I would “hide” behind barrels and boxes to keep away from the guards. When we made it to the stables, I walked inside with a grin.

“My king!” Thersilochus, the stable master, smiled at me happily. I wasn’t called the ‘Tamer of Horses’ for no reason.

“Thersilochus,” I said, “I am officially stealing my horse. Anyone who asks will know that you never saw me or Astyanax and all you know is that my horse is gone.” The older man grinned and turned around without another word, going back to the stall he had been working in. He was  _well_  aware of my oddities, but found them amusing, so didn’t question me. I quickly retrieved my horse and got Astyanax on the gelding’s back before slinging myself up.

“I wanna see Papa!” He demanded.

“As you wish, little one.” I smiled, using Achilles’ nickname for the boy. Thersilochus opened the stable doors, letting me lead the horse outside. I nudged the horse into a trot and we left the city walls, for one of the first times in my son’s life. The joy in that thought was freeing. I leaned forward to Astyanax’s ear. “Do you want to go faster?”

“Yeah!” I wrapped around my son, keeping him securely on the horse’s back, and kicked the animal into a gallop. At my son’s squeal of delight, I urged the horse even faster, cantering towards the rapidly approaching ships. There was no doubt in my mind that Sarpedon had discovered my treachery, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Achilles was back. We reached the beach and I slowed the horse to a stop as the first ships were close enough to see the wood paneling of their hulls. I glanced back at the city, spotting the envoy I had ordered leaving the gates. I got off the horse and plucked Astyanax from its back, tickling him to distract him from the waiting he would have to do before he could see Achilles or Patroclus.

“Hector!” I glanced up and Achilles leapt from the prow of his ship into the waves, getting completely soaked in an instant. He waded through the sea spray and I couldn’t help the grin that pulled at my face.

“Papa!” Astyanax squirmed from my grasp to run to the Greek warrior. “Papa! Papa!” Without breaking his stride, Achilles scooped the boy up into his arms, laughing.

“Gods, little one, you’ve gotten big.” Achilles said. “What have you been eating?”

“Everything!” Astyanax said proudly. Achilles walked up to me, Astyanax still on his hip, and without hesitating, kissed me in the desperate manner of long-separated lovers.

“Welcome home.” I smiled. Achilles’ smile was small, so small many wouldn’t even see it, but it was full of warmth and love.

“Didja miss me, Papa?” My son piped up, stealing his attention.

“Of course I did!” Achilles said in mock-affront. “Wait until you see what I brought for you from Phthia.”

“Is it a sword?” Astyanax gasped in excitement.

“A sword?” Achilles laughed. “Why do you want a sword?”

“I wanna be a hero, like you and Daddy!”

“Is that so?” I chuckled. “Well, I’ll be sure to get you a practice sword for your birthday.”

“Yay!” A loud splash made us turn to acknowledge the Greeks who were docking the ships on the beach. Patroclus started walking towards us, taller than I remembered, and Astyanax squealed in delight. “Patty!” The five-year-old ran as soon as he escaped Achilles’ arms.

“Hey, squirt!” Patroclus dropped to his knees to embrace the boy.

“How was the journey?” I asked softly, watching the two interact.

“Long.” Achilles replied.

“I thought it would be at least another month.”

“I got impatient.” Achilles shrugged. “People who kept me waiting either hurried up or got left.” I glanced at him to see if he was joking. He wasn’t.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Of course.” Achilles grinned, smugly. Out of spite, I ran my fingers through my hair, letting the curls run wilds in the ocean wind. The nervous habit was something Achilles found exceptionally arousing, much to my amusement. I looked into the steel blue eyes of my lover as I brushed my hair back.

“I’ve missed you, Achilles.” I purposefully spoke in thickly-accented Greek. I watched Achilles’ eyes dilate, shifting from blue to black, as his mouth opened slightly in a silent gasp. He clenched his jaw and reached for me, about to do something quite drastic, when Sarpedon rode up to us on his horse, angry annoyance all over his features.

“The next time I decide not to trust you, my king,” He snapped, “I’ll at least have proof for my distrust.”

“You snuck out?” Achilles sniggered.

“Of course.” I grinned. “They’ve insisted on leaving bodyguards on me day in and day out.”

“Well, that’s idiotic.” Achilles agreed.

“I hate you both.” Sarpedon sighed, dismounting his horse and turned to observe the hardworking Greeks. I glanced over and saw Astyanax and Patroclus playing in the waves. When I looked back at my lover, he was staring at me intently.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, back in Luwian.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” Achilles asked patiently. Smirking, I leaned forward and decided to switch back to Greek.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me, Achilles.” I murmured, barely audibly over the crashing waves. Okay, so I was taunting the man, but I was so happy to see him again that I couldn’t bring myself to care. Achilles pounced, tackling me to the ground and pinning my hands into the sand as he kissed me desperately.

“Could you not  _wait_  until you get back to the palace?” Eudorus asked in annoyance. I laughed in Achilles’ mouth, but his answering growl made heat pool in my stomach and abruptly, it would take  _far_  too long to get back to the palace.

“I swear to the gods, if you two don’t stop, then I’ll teach Astyanax swear words!” Patroclus threatened. Achilles pulled back reluctantly.

“We are finishing this later.” He demanded.

“As you wish,  _Achilles_.” I replied, chuckling breathlessly. Growling, Achilles got off me and helped me to my feet.

Hours later, I was on my back with Achilles slowly sliding into me and pulling out even slower. He was deliberately driving me crazy because I had been teasing him since he had arrived and even though I knew I deserved it, I wasn’t very thrilled with his choice of revenge.

“Achilles!” I groaned, whining slightly and trying to get  _some_  leverage against his leisurely thrusting hips. His hands kept my wrists pinned to the bed above my head and my feet propped at his shoulders kept me from doing  _anything_  but take his kinky revenge. “Please!”

“What does my king wish of me?” Achilles teased. While his voice was completely calm, the trembling of his muscles and the barely controlled heat in his gaze destroyed the languid visage he tried to present me with.

“Fuck me  _faster_!” I demanded, wishing for something  _more_. More friction, more touch, more Achilles, more, more,  _more!_  Achilles chuckled breathlessly and I clamped down on his erection, making him hiss in shock.

“You’re going to ruin my revenge, Hector.” He growled, his eyes darkening.

“Good.” I lifted my head as much as I could to kiss the Greek hard and slightly violently. The coppery taste of blood ignited  _something_  in the warrior, making his hips plunge harder and unconsciously faster into me. I cried out into his mouth as the abrupt increase in tempo. With the accompanying speed, Achilles had shifted his angle ever so slightly, making my gut tighten and stars shoot in front of my eyes with every thrust. Achilles snarled wordlessly at me while he fucked me with reckless abandon. One of his hands abandoned my wrist to wrap around my erection and stroke it in time with his thrusts.

“You shouldn’t tease me in public, Hector.” Achilles groaned against my lips.

“The consequences are far more pleasurable than painful.” I argued, arching my back into him. “You’ll never convince me to stop if  _this_  is what you’ll do to me every time.” I dropped my legs form his shoulders and shoved at him, rolling us so I was on top. I didn’t let him get his bearings before I was riding the Greek with all the finesse and power I had. Achilles groaned loudly and dragged me into a deep kiss. There was some image in his mind that had made him lose control completely because he lost all semblance of control.

“Fuck, you are so tight.” The warrior threw his head back as his fingers tightened on my hips. I sat upright, rolling my hips like he was a stallion I had to break. I rode his erection hard, desperate to feel that eruption of pleasure with him again. Months without him left me far more bereft than I had wanted and expected. Achilles caught my eye and slammed up into me violently and so suddenly that I exploded all over our chests with a hoarse shout. My inner muscles clenched to the point where Achilles lost control soon after I did.

“Welcome home.” I grinned as we tried to calm our erratic breathing.

“It’s a good thing that you practice taming horses all the time or you would have been thrown on that ride.” Achilles chuckled.

“Is  _that_  what made you lose it?” I laughed.

“I’ve been watching you ride and tame horses for years.” He said, unapologetically. “And this is the first time you’ve ever ridden  _me_. The fantasies alone were phenomenal, but the real thing…” Achilles sighed and relaxed on the bed, completely content and sated for the moment. I slid off the warrior and flopped onto the bed next to him, far too lazy to even think about cleaning the sweat and seed from our skin.

“We’ll have to do that one more often.” I agreed. Achilles hummed in lethargic agreement.

“I’m glad to be back.” He admitted. “If only for the best sex of my life.”

“You’re incorrigible.” I pointed out, not for the first time.

“You love it.”

“That is completely irrelevant.”

“Go to sleep, Trojan.” Achilles whined, rolling over to drape himself over me.

“Good night, Achilles.”

“Good night, Hector.”

It was only then, with the sweat cooling on my skin and Achilles’ scorching skin against mine, that the knowledge truly hit me: the Trojan War was over and given the losses I had suffered throughout the decade of fighting, I had still come out much better in the end than I had started.


End file.
